LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

COPYRIGHT OFFICE. ' 

No registration of title of thic u^ , 

asapreiin^inarytoco^yn^'hSf 
tion has been found. ^ 

forwarded to Order Division JBj_ 1907 

(Date) 

(6. i, 1906—2,000 ) 




"->\j 



Class. 

Book - ^t^^? 



PICTURES 



FROM 



ENGLISH LITERATURE 



SARA A. HAMLIN 

Teacher rf English Literature, Dean Academy, Mass. 



My eyes make pictures when they're shut." 

— Coleridge. 



EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

BOSTON 
New York Chicago San Francisco 






LIBRARY of CONGRESS 

Two Copies ReceJved 

MAR 22 1906 

CopyrtfM Entry 

CLASS KXc, NO. 

COPY B. 



Copyrighted 

By educational PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1906 

-■^eceived from 
^py right Office. 



r'voT 



u; CONT^KNXS. 

Pictures. 

Page 

I. King Arthur and His Knights of The Round Table . 7 

II. The Canterbury Pilgrims .25 

III. The Red-Cross Knight and Una .... 35 

IV. Two Pictures from Paradise Lost .... 49 
V. Sir Roger de Coverley 57 

VI. The Home of the Vicar of Wakefield ... 69 

VI r. Loch Katrine 91 

VIII. The Lady of Shalott 109 

IX. A Group of Scottish Pictures . . .. . .117 

X. The Castle of Chillon . . . o . . 141 

XI. Eppie 155 

XII. Little EUie . 179 

XIII. Pippa 185 

Picture-Makers. 

Geoffrey Chaucer . 24 

Edmund Spenser 34 

John Milton 48 

Joseph Addison ......... 56 

Oliver Goldsmith . , .68 

Walter Scott 90 

Alfred Tennyson 108 

Robert Burns 118 

George Gordon Byron 140 

George Eliot 154 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 178 

Robert Browning 184 



To all boys and girls who love pictures, I dedicate these 
sketches from my mental gallery. 

S. A. H. 




A VEI^RABLE SCHOLAR. 



'i^iCTURES From English Literature, 



KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS, 

The first picture that I want to show you was 
not the work of a single artist. It was begun, more 
than six hundred years ago, by a Welsh monk, called 
Geoffrey of Monmouth. In later times, other artists 
made many additions to it, some of which greatly 
increased its beauty. At length, the great painter, 
Alfred Tennyson, retouched the whole picture, giving 
it its present rich coloring and perfect finish ; so that 
it is numbered to-day among the most fascinating 
paintings in the whole gallery of literature. 

It represents King Arthur and his twelve brave 
knights, seated about the famous Round Table, 
which was built by Merlin, the wonderful magician. 

Do you see the king at the head of the table? 
There, at his right, sits the bold Sir Launcelot 

7 



8 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

du Lac ; next to him, is the gentle Sir Perceval ; while 
there, in the " Seat Perilous," where, until this time, 
no man was allowed to sit, is the peerless Sir 
Galahad. Arthur loved his noble knights, and he 
was never so happy as when listening to the 
recital of their valiant deeds, 

Has not the king a noble face? Truly, he does 
look as though he wore "the white flower of a 
blameless life." 

As he sits tiiere talking with Launcelot, his favorite 
knight, can 3^0 u mark the difi'erence between the two 
countenances? Arthur's face, calm and pale, tells of a 
life dedicated to high thoughts and noble deeds ; while 
that of the handsome Launcelot is seamed with lines 
of unrest and secret trouble. 

But what a grand-looking set of men they all are I 
It would be strange indeed did they look otherwise, 
if they have kept the vows to which they are pledged ; 
to do no outrage or murder, never to take part in a 
wrongful quarrel, and always to do battle for the 
weak and oppressed. 

From the eagerness depicted on their faces, I think 
they must be talking about the search for the Holy 
Grail. This was the cup out of which our Saviour 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 9 

drank at the Last Si:q)per. He was supposed to have 
given it into the keeping of Joseph of Arimathea, who 
carried it to Europe. For many years it remained 
upon the earth to bless mankind by its presence. But 
finally, one of the holy men who had charge of it "fell 
from grace : " the cup disappeared, and could be 
recovered only by a knight without stain and without 
reproach. So all the knights of the Round Table 
vowed to seek the Holy Grail a year and a day. 

As I look at their strong, earnest countenances, I 
think of the many strange adventures, the dangers and 
defeats, through which they had to pass : for not to 
the courteous Sir Perceval, nor to the bold Sir Gawain, 
nor yet to the brave Launcelot, was the blessed vision 
granted ; but only to the stainless Galahad, the pure 
and perfect knight, was it given to become the happy 
possessor of the holy cup. 

Do you like the picture ? If you do, I will tell you 
a little about the history of King Arthur. 

Many hundred years ago,- Britain, the country 
which is now called England, was inhabited by a 
people called the Celts. They were a brave, hardy 
race ; but, for some time, they had been greatly 
troubled by the invasions of the Picts and Scots, who 



10 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

were pouring down upon them from the north. 
Unable to obtain help from any other source, they 
invited their fierce neighbors, the Saxons, to come 
over and help them drive out their, enemies. 

This the Saxons did ; but they liked the fertile 
land of Britain so well that, after they had conquered 
the northern barbarians, they decided to remain there 
permanently. So they turned their weapons upon 
the helpless Celts, and, for more than a hundred 
years, there was continued strife between the two 
races ; until, at last, the Celts were driven from their 
own country, and took refuge among the hills of 
Wales. But, although expelled from their homes by 
force, their brave, free spirit was unconquerable ; and 
from this ancient stock arose an independent and 
liberty-loving people. 

In the midst of the strife, Arthur was born. 
When he was a lad of fifteen years, he became king; 
and it is quite interesting to know how this was 
brought about. 

At the time of the old king's death, it was not 
known that he had left any heir to the throne, and all 
the people were greatly troubled as to who should 
take his place. In their anxiety, they prayed to God 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. U 

• 

that He would send them some sign from Heaven ; 

and as an answer to their prayer, there appeared 
before the church door a stone in which was sticking 
a sword. So the Bishop proposed that whoever 
could draw the sword from the stone should be 
crowned king. 

To this the people agreed, and all the tributary 
kings and most famous knights tried to draw it out ; 
but in vain. Not one was able to move the sword 
ever so little, and it remained for a long time in front 
of the church door. 

Finally a great tournament ^ took place, and 
Arthur was present, serving as squire to his foster- 
brother, Sir Kay, who had the misfortune to break 
his sword. The knight sent his young squire home 
for another ; and as Arthur went by the church, he 
saw a sword stickino^ in a stone. Thinkino^ that this 
would be a good weapon for his brother, he easily 
drew it out, and hastened with it to Sir Kay. 

The latter immediately recognized the miraculous 
sword, and would have claimed the throne for him- 
self; but when, to convince the doubters, it was 



1 Tournamtn' — a mock fight intended to show the address and bravery of the 
combatants. 



12 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

replaced in the stone, it would yield a second time 
only to the hand of Arthur, who was thus discovered 
to be the lawful son and heir of the former king. So 
at an early day, Arthur was joyfully crowned by the 
people, and proclaimed their sovereign and chief. 

One of the new king's chief advisers was Merlin, 
a mighty enchanter, who had the power of transform- 
ing himself into any shape that he wished. By his 
magic arts, he became of great use to Arthur, and 
saved his life many times in battle. It was he who 
made the wonderful Round Table about which you 
may have heard. 

This was surrounded by thirteen seats, but twelve 
of which could be occupied, and these only by knights 
of the highest fame. The thirteenth was kept vacant 
in memory of the Saviour, and was reserved for the 
pure Sir Galahad. It was called the " Seat Perilous," 
because if a sinful man attempted to sit in it, the earth 
would open and swallow him. A magic power wrote 
upon each seat the name of the knight who was 
entitled to it, and no one could succeed to a seat 
unless he surpassed in valor its former occupant. 

When Arthur happened to break his sword in 
a severe encounter with one of his enemies, it was 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 13 

i 
Merlin who told him how to obtain another from the 

Lady of the Lake. lie directed the king to a lake 
near by, where he would see an arm extending 
upwards from the waves, holding in its hand a sword. 

"You must row out to this spot," said Merlin, 
^^ and if the Lady of the Lake is willing for you to have 
the weapon, she will allow you to take it away." 

So the king did as Merlin said. He rowed out 
into the middle of the lake, and there he saw an arm 
reaching upward from the water, " clothed in white 
samite,^ mystic, wonderful," and in the hand was 
a bright and shinino: sword. As soon as Arthur 
attempted to draw the weapon away, the hand 
relaxed its hold and sank beneath the waves. 
"And the king looked on the sword, and liked it 
well." 

This became the renowned Excalibur, which was 
said to shine so bright when it w^as brandished that it 
gave a light equal to thirty torches, and blinded the 
eyes of all who looked upon it. 

By its aid. King Arthur gained many victories 
over the fierce Saxons, thus greatly extending his 
kingdom, and causing his name to be feared through- 
out the land. 

2 Samite — a kind of silken stuff, adorned with gold. 



14 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

It is not in battle, however, that we like best to 
think of good King Arthur ; but in his court at Came- 
lot, where he lived with his queen, the beautiful 
Guinevere. O what glorious times those were ! It 
makes our pleasures seem tame, when we think of the 
splendid jousts and tournaments that filled those 
days. 

The knights were always seeking new adventures 
by which they might do honor to themselves and 
their king ; and their most daring feats of arms 
could receive no better reward than his approving 
smile and a glance from the bright eyes of 
Guinevere. 

Yet not in selfish delights alone did Arthur allow 
the days to pass. Wherever there was a wrong to 
redress, wherever the strong triumphed over the 
weak, there was found the king with his irresistible 
sw^ord and shining armor. 

But dark days came at last to Camelot. Modred, 
a rebellious kinsman, conspired against the pure and 
noble king. A dreadful battle took place, which 
lasted for hours ; and when night fell, Arthur's knights, 
whom he loved so well, lay dead upon the field. 
Only one survived, the bold Sir Bedivere. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERTTURE. 15 

So all day long the news of battle roll'd 
Among the mountains by the winter sea ; 
Until King Arthur's table, man by man, 
Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their lord. 
King Arthur : then, because his wound was deep. 
The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, 
Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights, 
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, 
A broken chancel with a broken cross. 
That stood on a dark strait of barren land. 
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one 
Lay a great water, and the moon was full. 
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : ^ 
'The sequel of to-day unsolders^ all 
The goodliest fellowship of famous knights 
Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep 
They sleep — the men I loved. I think that we 
Shall nevermore, at any future time. 
Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, 
Walking about the gardens and the halls 
Of Camelot, as in days that were. 
I perish by this people which I made, — 
Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again 
To rule once more — but let what will be, be, 
I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm 
That without help I cannot last till morn. 
Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, 



Unsolders — disunites. 



16 PICTURES EROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

Which was my pride ; for thou rememberest how 
In those old days, one summer noon, an arm 
Rose up from out the bosom of the lake. 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
Holding the sword — and how I rowed across 
And took it, and have worn it, like a king : 
And, wheresoever I am suns; or told 
In aftertime, this also shall be known : 
But now delay not : take Excalibur, 
And fling him far into the middle of the mere ;'* 
Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me 
word.' 
To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere ; 
^ It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus. 
Aidless, alone and smitten thro' the helm: 
A little thing may harm a wounded man. 
Yet I thy hest^ will all perform at full 
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word.'" 

So saying, he stepped down from the ruined shrine, 
and hastened to the lake to do the king's command. 
But as he drew forth the beautiful sword, Excalibur, 
and saw the handle all glittering with diamonds, it 
seemed too precious to throw away. The longer he 
looked, the more his eyes were dazzled ; and, at last, 

A Mere — lake. 
5 ^ei^— command. 



PICTURES EROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 17 

I 

he decided to leave the sword hidden there among the 
water-fla^s. 

"So strode he back slow to the wounded king, 
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
' Hast thou perform'd thy mission which I gave ? 
What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? ' 
And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
^ I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, 
And the wild water lapping on the craig.' 

To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale : 
^Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy name, 
Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd 
Thy fealty,*' nor like a noble knight : 
For sureis sign had followed, either hand. 
Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. 
This is a shameful thing for men to lie. 
. Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again. 
As thou art lief'^ and dear, and do the thing 
I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word.'" 

Then went Sir Bedivere the second time ; but as 
he raised the sword aloft, the moon, shining upon it, 
brought out all the wondrous beauty of the hilt; and 
as he saw how richly and curiously it was chased, he 
again shrank from throwing it into the lake. 

6 Fealty — fidelity to one's lord. 

7 Z/te/— beloved. 



18 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

He thought : " If I allow this splendid blade to 
perish, what will there be left on the earth to serve as 
a reminder of the glory of Arthur's reign? Besides, 
the king is sick now, and knows not what he does. 
Is it right to obey him if he demand an act unprofit- 
able to himself? " 

So, misled by his own conceit, he hid Excalibur a 
second time, and returned to the king. 

" Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily : 

^ What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?' 
And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 

' I heard the water lapping on the crag, 
And the long ripple washing in the reeds.' 
To whom replied King Arthur, in much wrath : 

^Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, 
Unknightly, traitor-hearted ! Woe is me ! 
Authority forgets a dying king. 
Laid widow'd of the power in his eye 
That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art, 
For thou, the latest-left of all my knights, 
In whom should meet the ofiices of all. 
Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt ; 
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl 
Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. 
Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice, 
And the third time prosper, get thee hence ; 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 19 

But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, 
I will arise and slay thee with my hands.' 
Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, 
And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged 
Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch'd the sword. 
And strongly wheel'd and threw it. The great 

brand 
Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon. 
And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an 

arch. 
Shot like a streamer of the northern morn , 
Seen where the moving isles of winter shock 
By night, with noises of the northern sea. 
So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur ; 
But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere. 
And lightly went the other to the King. 

Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker 

breath : 
'Now see I by thine eye that this is done. 
Speak out : what is it thou hast heard or seen ? 
And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
'Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems 
Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, 
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die. 
Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men, 



20 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

So great a miracle as yonder hilt. 
Then with both hands I flung him, wiieeling him ; 
But when I looked again, behold an arm, 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
That cauglit him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere.' 
And answer made King Arthur, breathing 

hard : 
^ My end draws nigh : 'tis time that I were 

gone. 
Make broad thy shoulders to receive my 

weight ; 
And bear me to the margin ; 3^et I fear 
My Avound hath taken cold, and I shall die.' " 

So Bedivere placed the dying king upon his broad 
shoulders, and carried him to the lake, which shone 
white and beautiful in the moonlight. And lo ! there 
came sailing towards them a dusky barge, whose deck 
was covered with stately figures all clothed in black, 
while there arose a long, low cry of sorrow. 

Then murmured Arthur : " Place me in the 
barge ; " and three of the stately forms put forth their 
hands and took the king and wept. 

" Then loudly cried bold Sir Bedivere ; 

' Ah ? my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go ? 



HCTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 21 

Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyevS ? 
For now I see the true old times are dead, 
When every morning brought a noble chance, 
And every chance brought out a noble knight. 
Such times have been not since the light that led 
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. 
But now the whole round table is dissolved 
Which was an image of the mighty world ; 
And I, the last, go forth companionless. 
And the days darken round me, and the years. 
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.' 
And slowly answered Arthur from the barge : 
'The old order changeth, yielding place to new. 
And God fulfils himself in many ways. 
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. 

If thou shouldst never see my face again, 

Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by 

prayer 
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy 

voice 
Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 

But now farewell. I am going a long way 
With these thou seest — if indeed I go 
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) 
To the island-valley of Avilion ; 
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 



22 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies 
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns, 
And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, 
Where I w-ill heal me of my grievous wound.' 
So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 
Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted 

swan 
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere 
Revolving many memories, till the hull 
Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn, 
And on the mere the wailing died away." 



THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS, 



23 




GEOFFREY CHAUCER, 



THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. 

The picture 1 want next to show you is by that 
rare old artist, Dan Chaucer, who painted in such 
rich and glowing colors, that his creations are as 
fresh and attractive to-day as when they were first 
called forth by his magic pen. 

It represents a merry company that set out on 
a journey, one bright morning in April, many years 
ago. They called the journey a pilgrimage, because 
they were on their way to worship at the shrine 
of Thomas a Becket' in Canterbury. 

You know what was meant by a pilgrimage ; how 
the pilgrim, with staff and scrip, went many weary 
miles on foot, that he might atone for his sins by 
praying at the tomb of some well-known saint. The 
most sacred ilgr images were made to the tomb of our 
Saviour in the holy city of Jerusalem ; but there 

\ Thomas a Becket — was Archbishop of Canterbury in the reign of Henry il, 
After his mnrder by the servants of the king, he was regarded as a saint; and 
pilgrimages were constantly made to his tomb in Canterbury Cathedral. 

2^ 



26 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

were other shrines nearer home, and the tomb of 
a Becket had long been a favorite place of worship. 

These, however, were not always solemn and 
fatiguing journeys. Oftentimes, people who were 
going to the same shrine would form a little company ; 
and, thinking that the Evil One was thwarted by the 
object of their journey, they would give themselves 
up, on the way, to mirth and jollity. 

Well, these Canterbury Pilgrims were just such a 
joyous company, when they set forth from the Tabard 
Inn, one sunny morning so long ago. 

Can you see in the picture, the beautiful bl-ue 
sky, the green hedge, and the white May blossoms? 
It is no wonder that, at this delightful season of 
the year, people did 

"Long to go on pilgrimages. 
And palmers for to seek strange lands." 

Would you like to know who some of these merry 
pilgrims are? 

That big man with the jolly face, who seems to be 
the leader of the party, is Harry Bailey, the host 
of the Tabard Inn. When he learned that they were 
all going in the same direction, he offered to conduct 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 27 

them, as he was familiar with the road ; and, in order 
to make the thne pass pleasantly, he proposed that 
every one should tell two stories on the way to 
Canterbury, and two more on the way home. 

He added, shrewd old fellow that he was, that they 
all must return to the Tabard Inn ; and he who had 
told the best story should sup at the expense of the 
rest. This jolly Harry Bailey was very entertaining, 
and his witty remarks added much to the general fun. 

That noble-looking man riding along, dressed in a 
complete suit of armor, is the Knight of the company. 

"A knight there was, and that a worthy man. 
Who, from the time in which he first began 
To ride afield, loved well all chivalry. 
Honor and frankness, truth and courtesy. 
Most worthy was he in his master's war, 
And thereto had he ridden, none more far, 
As well in Christian as in heathen lands. 
And borne with honor many high commands." 

But although he was such a great soldier, he was, 
in his manner, as gentle as a woman. 

"He was a very perfect, noble knight." 
Close beside him, is his son, a gay young Squire, 



28 PK)TITRES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

whose handsome face and rich dress give brightness 
to the whole picture. 

I think Chaucer must have smiled when he 
described this young fellow. 

*' His locks all curled as though laid in a press. 

"Embroidered was he, as a meadow bright, 
All full of freshest flowers, red and white ; 
Singing he was, or flute-playing all day. 
He was as fresh as is the month of May. 

Do you see that pretty little lady riding there? 
That is the Nun, Madame Eglantine. 

Chaucer liked her, I know, even though he did 
make fun of her in a quiet way. 

"There also was a Nun, a Prioress, 
Who of her smiling was most simple and coy ; 
Her greatest oath was only ' By Saint Loy,' 
And she was called Madame Eo:lantine. 
Full well she sang the services divine 
Entuned through her nose melodiously. 

"At meal-times, she was very apt withal ; 
No morsel from her lips did she let fall. 
Nor in her sauce did wet her fingers deep ; 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 29 



" She was so charitable and piteous 
That she would weep did she but see a mouse 
Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled ; 
^ And little dogs she had, which oft she fed 

With roasted meat and milk and finest bread ; 
But sore she wept if one of them were dead, 
Or, haply, with a rod were smitten smart. 
And all was conscious and tender heart ! " 

She must have been an affected little body ; . and 
yet I like to look at her, she is so dainty and sweet. 

That thoughtful-looking man with his eyes bent 
upon the ground is the Clerk of Oxford, a poor man, 
for we are told : — 

"His horse, it was as skinny as a rake ; 
And he was not too fat, I'll undertake. 
But had a sober, rather hollow look ; 
And very threadbare was his outer cloak." 

All the money he could get he spent on books. 

"For rather would he have at his bed's head, 
A score of books, all bound in black or red, 
Of Aristotle and his philosophy, 
Than rich attire, fiddle, or psaltery." ^ 

2 Psaltery — a stringed musical instrument. 



30 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

He talked but little, yet what he did say was 
sensible and wise. 

You must take a good long look at this figure 
of the Clerk of Oxford, for it is said to be a represen- 
tation of Dan Chaucer himself. 

Just behind him , is the richly dressed Monk upon 
his splendid horse ; and quite near, rides the Friar, 
to whom Chaucer gives a sly hit when he says : — 

"In giving penance,^ very kind was he. 
When people made it worth his while to be." 

That man you see with his beard "as white 
as the daisies be," is the Franklin, a great land- 
owner. Well-to-do was he and very hospitable. In 
his house, it seemed as though it "snowed with meat 
and drink." 

You must not pass by that middle-aged woman, 
who wears such a broad hat ; for she is of great 
importance in her own estimation, and would never 
forgive you, if you did not give her more than 
a passing glance.- 

"Bold is her face, and fair and red of hue." 

She is called the Wife of Bath, and is very 

d Fenance — punislunent. 



PICTURES FROMi ENGLISH LITERATURE. 31 

expert in weaving cloth. She has made a great 
many pilgrimages to Rome and other places ; for she 
has plenty oi' money, as one can see by her showy 
dress. 

Not far from her, is the Parson, poor in purse, but 
rich in holy thought and work. 

" Christ's and the twelve apostles' law he taught, 
But first himself obeyed it as he ought." 

These are some of the people you see in Ihe 
picture. It would take too long to describe all 
the members of that large and pleasant company ; 
but you can see that they represent all classes 
of society. If you look closely, you will see the 
Sergeant-of-Law, a very busy man. 

"Nowhere there was a busier man than he, 
Yet busier than he was, he seemed to be." 

There, too, are the Carpenter, the Doctor, the 
Merchant ; in fact, some one from every department 
in life. 

This is the reason why the picture is such a 
favorite ; it portrays so well the men and women 
of the fourteenth century, that it seems as if they 
lived and moved before us. 



32 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

But our wonderful artist does more ; he makes 
them talk, and tell us just such stories as they would 
have told in that far away time. 

Don't you wish you could have been with them, 
and have heard their delightful tales, as they wandered 
through the lovely English country ? 

There are three I should dearly like to have 
heard ; the Knight's chivalrous story of Palamon and 
Arcite, and their love for the fair Emelye ; the 
pathetic story of the faithful wife, Griselda, which the 
gentle Clerk of Oxford told ; and the Nun's Priest's 
bri2:ht tale of Chanticleer and his charmino^ Pertilote. 

What a pity that we do not know of the arrival 
at Canterbury, the ceremonies at the Cathedral, and 
the homeward journey ! But the pen dropped from 
the artist's Aveary fingers before he depicted those 
scenes for us ; and we can only guess who it was 
that supped at Harry Bailey's inn at no cost 
to himself. 



THE RED GROSS KNIGHT AND UNA, 



33 



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EDMUND SPENSER. 



THE RED CROSS KNIGHT AND UNA. 

"A gentle knight was pricking ^ on the plain, 
Yclad^ in mighty arms and silver shield, 
Wherein old dints of deep wounds did remain, 
The cruel marks of many a bloody field ; 
Yet arms till that time did he never wield. 
Full jolly knight he seeuied, and fair did sit, 
As one for knightly jousts ^ and fierce encounters 
fit. 

"And on his breast a bloody cross he bore. 
The dear remembrance of his dying Lord, 
For whose sweet sake that glorious badge he 
wore , 
And dead as livino^ ever him adored. 

" A lovely lady rode him fair beside. 

Upon a lowly ass more white than snow, 
Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide 
Under a veil that wimpled^ was full low, 

1 Pricking — riding rapidly 

2 Yclad — clothed. 

3 Jousts — mock encounters on horseback. 

4 Wimpled — laid iii folds . 

35 



36 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

And over all a black stole ^ she did throw. 

As one that inly mourned ; so was she sad, 
And heavy sat upon her palfty slow ; 

Seem'd in heart some hidden care she had ; 
And by her in a line a milk-white lamb she led." 

It was Edmund Spenser, the poet-laureate of 
Queen Elizabeth's reign, who gave us this beautiful 
picture ; but it is only one of the many exquisite 
scenes that he has portrayed in his wonderful poem, 
"The Faery Queene." 

Listen, and I will explain the picture to you. 

Once upon a time, the Queen of Fairy-Land was 
holding a festival of twelve days ; and the knight 
who, during that time, could achieve the most 
glorious deed, was to be rewarded by a rich and 
beautiful prize. All the knights, far and near, 
hastened to s^ive evidence of their skill and darins^. 

On the first day of the festival, there came to 
the court a beautiful maiden riding upon a snow- 
white ass, and followed by a dwarf, leading a warlike 
steed that bore a suit of armor. The young 
girl, falling on her knees before the Fair}^ Queen, 

5 Stole — a long, loose garment. 



PICTURES FRO^ ENGLISH LITERATURE. 37 

said that her parents were besieged in their castle by 
a fierce dragon, and begged that some one might be 
sent to deliver them from their deadly foe. 

Immediately, a tall, clownish young man came 
forward, and asked that he might undertake this 
adventure. The lady did not wish to accept so 
awkw^ard an attendant ; but, as he persisted, she told 
him that unless the armor which she brought would 
fit him, he could not succeed in the enterprise. 

Then the Queen put upon him the armor, 
which bore upon it the sign of a red cross, and 
placed in his hand a silver shield bearing a like 
symbol. When thus arrayed, he seemed the 
goodliest knight in all that company, and was well 
liked by the fair lady. 

So, mounting the steed brought by the dwarf, 
tl^e young knight rode forth with Una, for that was 
the maiden's name, upon his perilous errrand. 

This is the yncture I want you to see, — the 
beautiful girl and the brave knight, as they start 
forth on their dangerous expedition. 

They ride along quite pleasantly, at first, until 
a sudden storm coming on, they seek shelter in a 
neighboring wood. After the storm is over, they 



38 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

turn to leave the wood ; but cannot find the path by 
which they entered. 

Wandering along, they come to a hollow cave. 
The dwarf warns them that this is Error's Cave, and 
urges them to flee for their lives. But the youthful 
knight cannot let escape this opportunity of display- 
ing his bravery. So he attacks the ugly monster, 
and, after a desperate struggle, kills it. They then 
ride on, and in a short time, find their way out of the 
grove. 

Soon they meet an aged man, who, from his 
appearance, seems to be a devout priest. He asks 
them to spend the night with him, saying that they 
must be in need of rest and refreshment. They grate- 
fully accept his off"er, and accompany him to his home ; 

"A little lowly hermitage it was 
Down in a dale, hard by*^ a forest's side 
Far from resort of people that did pass 
In travel to and fro. 

"Arrived there, the little house they fill, 
Nor look for entertainment, where none was : 
Eest is their feast, and all things at their will ; 
The noblest mind the best contentment has." 

6 Hard by — near by. 



PICTURES rRO|I ENGLISH LITERATURE. 39 

The evening is spent in holy conversation, and 
they retire to rest at an early hour. Now this old 
man is, in reality, a wicked magician, who hates 
everything good and pure ; and as soon as he has 
bidden good-night to his guests, he casts about in his 
mind for some charm to work their ruin. 

He calls one of the little sprites who wait to do 
his bidding, and commands him to go to the Palace 
of Morpheus, and bring back a false dream. 

I wish I could make you see this beautiful Palace 
of Sleep, with its doors of silver and ivory, guarded 
by the ever watchful dogs, "that lie in wait, to banish 
Care, their enemy." But I can only tell you that it 
is the most quiet, restful, delightful spot that was 
ever created from a poet's imagination. 

After a good deal of trouble, for Morpheus is not 
easy to arouse from his happy slumbers, the little 
sprite obtains what he seeks, and, returning through 
the ivory door, mounts on his wings, and soon bears 
the dream to his lord. 

As soon as this is received by the wicked old 
man, he so weaves it into the brain of the young 
knight that he believes the fair and good Una to be 
false to him ; and when the maiden arises early 



40 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

in the morning, and asks for her protector, who has 
promised to deliver her parents from their deadly 
peril, she finds that he, with the dwarf, has forsaken 
her. She can hardly believe it at first ; and when she 
is forced to realize the truth, her grief is very great. 
But she thinks he cannot l)e far distant, and hopes 
that, by starting forth at once, she may soon overtake 
him. 

Alas ! poor Una is to meet with many an 
adventure before she beholds him whom she loves so 
well ; and the knight, before he again sees his 
dear lady, is to realize how inadequate is his 
youthful, untried strength before the blandishments''' 
of temptation. 

I shall not take the time to tell you of all the 
adventures that befall the Red Cross Knight. The 
most interesting one is when he is led to the Palace 
of Pride. 

" A stately palace built of squared brick. 
Which cunningly was without mortar laid. 
Whose walls were hio^h, but nothinir strong^ nor 

thick , 
And golden foil all over them displayed. 

7 Blandiihments — arts. 



PICTURES FROtr ENGLISH LITERTTURE. 41 

That purest sky with brightness they dismayed : 
High lifted up were many lofty towers, 
And goodly galleries far overlaid, 
Full of fair windows and delightful bowers ; 
And on the top a dial told the timely hours." 

Here upon a rich throne sits the Queen of Pride, 
surrounded by her hateful counsellors. Idleness, 
Gluttony, Avarice, Envy, and Wrath. 

"And in her hand she held a mirror bright, 
Wherein her face she often ftun would view. 
And in her self-loved semblance took delis^ht. 

"Rightful kingdom she had none at all, 
Nor heritage of native sovereignty, 
But did usurp with wrong and tyranny 
Upon the sceptre which she now did hold." 

The knight has been brought hei'e by a beautiful 
lady, whom he believes to be as innocent as she is 
fair. After he arrives at this place, he begins to 
suspect her true character, and manages to escape ; 
but he is followed by the false Duessa, who asfain 
beguiles him. Persuaded by her to drink of an 
enchanted spring, he loses his strength and is taken 
captive by a mighty giant. 



42 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

All this time, Una has been seeking her knight, 
whom she still so dearly loves. She meets with 
many dangers, but her innocence and purity carry 
her triumphant through every peril. 

I want to show you one picture of her, which 
is the most beautiful I have ever seen. 

" One day nigh weary of the irksome way, 

From her unhastys beast she did alight, 
And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay 

In secret shadow, far from all men's sight : 
From her fair head, her fillet^ she undight,^^ 

And laid her stole aside. Her angel's face. 
As the great e3"e of heaven, shined bright. 

And made a sunshine in the shady place ; 
Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace. 

"It fortuned ^1 out of the thickest wood 
A ramping 12 lion rushed suddenly, 

Hunting full greedy after savage blood ; 
Soon as the royal virgin he did spy. 

With gaping mouth at her ran greedily, 

To have at once devoured her tender corse : 



8 Unhasty — slow. 

^Fillet — a little band, worn about the head. 
\QUndight — ^\\t oti. 

1 Fortuned — happened. 

2 Ramping — raging. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 43 

But to the prey when as he drew more nigh, 

His bloody rage assuaged ^^ with remorse 
And with the sight amazed, forgot his furious force. 

"Instead thereof he kissed her weary feet, 
And licked her lily hands with fawning tongue. 
As he her wronged innocence did weet ^^ 

"The lion would not leave her desolate, 

But with her went along, as a strong guard 
Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate 

Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard ; 
Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward, 

And when she waked, he waited diligent. 
With humble service to her will prepared ; 

From her fair eyes he took commandment. 
And ever by her looks conceived her intent. 

" O how can beauty master the most strong. 
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong ! " 

Shortly after this, Una is met by the dwarf, 
who had made his escape. He narrated to her all that 
has happened : the treachery of Archimago, the old 
maofician ; the snares of false Duessa ; the House of 



13 Assuaged— cahned. 

14 Weet— ^now. 



44 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

Pride and all the perils it contained ; and lastly, the 
fatal conflict with the giant. 

Una is sorely grieved to hear of the dangers 
through which her dear knight has passed ; but it is 
such a blessed relief to know he is still her own 
true knight, that she almost forgets his present 
captivity. Soon, however, she realizes his condition ; 
and resolving to find him alive or dead, she and the 
dwarf continue the search together. 

At last, when her heart begins to grow heavy with 
despair, she sees, riding towards her, a strange horse- 
man, arrayed from head to foot in a magnificent suit 
of armor. It seems to her that this can be no 
ordinary mortal, so splendid is his dress; and she 
knows that only one of the grand Knights of the 
Round Table could carry such a marvelous shield or 
sword . 

As soon as he perceives the maiden's sorrowful 
looks, he urges her to confide her trouble to him. His 
bearing is so noble and his words so gentle, that she 
is impelled to tell him the story of her woes. 

When her sad tale is ended, he comforts her with 
cheering words, and says he will not leave her until 
he has freed her captive lord. 



PICTURES FROlft EJ^GLISH LITERATURE. 45 

" So forth they go, the dwarf them guiding ever right." 

They travel on until they reach the enchanted 
castle where lies the unfortunate knight. Then there 
follows a dreadful encounter between the giant and 
Prince Arthur, for it is he who has come to Una's 
relief. 

It is needless to say which one is victorious ; for 
who could withstand that shining sword and wondrous 
diamond shield ! 

The joyful meeting between the two who have so 
long been separated, I wdll let you imagine. 

Prince Arthur is obliged to leave them now, and 
they bid him adieu with grateful thanks. Una sees 
that her knight is feeble from his long imprisonment ; 
and she takes him to the House of Holiness, where he 
is strengthened and refreshed by the teachings of the 
three daughters, Faith, Hope and Charity. Cheered 
and encouraged by the divine help he has received, 
he feels now that he is strong enough to encounter 
the fierce dragon. 

The struggle lasts three days ; and, in the end, 
the Red Cross Knight comes off conqueror. 

And now what great rejoicing ! All the people 
flock out of the city to see their brave champion. 



46 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

The kino^ showers princely gifts upon him ; there 
is music and feasting ; and all vie with one another 
in doing honor to their deliverer. 

But he values little the praises they heap upon 
him, when he looks into Una's sweet face, and hears 
her words of gratitude and love. 

With this last scene, the artist closes his series 
of pictures. He leaves it to be read between the 
lines of the poem, that he has told us only the same 
old story of the battle between Truth and Error, 
which is ever beino^ washed in this world : of the 
temptations, the struggles, the sins ; and also of 
the glorious victory that must always come to him 
who is strong enough to endure unto the end. 



TWO PICTURES FROM PARADISE 



.47 




JOHN MILTON. 



TWO PICTURES FROM PARADISE LOST. 

The next two pictures are by an artist whose 

fame will never die, who, though old and poor 

and blind, painted grander scenes than the world had 

ever beheld. Of the many that he caused to glow 

upon his canvas, there is not one so grand and 

awful in its strength as that of Satan in sight of 

Paradise. 

"He 

In shape and gesture proudly eminent 
Stood like a tower ; his form had not yet lost 
All its original brightness, nor appeared 
Less than archangel ruined, and the excess 
Of glory obscured." 

In his countenance, envy, remorse, despair, 
contend for mastery, as he sees Adam and Eve 
wandering through the beautiful garden of Eden in 
the glory of the early day. While he looks, the words 
of their grand morning hymn are borne upon the air ; 
and he cannot help but listen : — 

"These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
Almighty ! thine this universal frame, 

49 



50 PICTUHES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then ! 

Unspeakable, who sit'st above these heavens 

To us invisible, or dimly seen 

In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 

Thy goodness beyond thought and power divine -• 

Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light. 

Angels ; for ye behold him, and with songs 

And choral symphonies, day without night, 

Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in Heaven : 

On Earth join all ye creatures to extol' 

Him first, him last, him midst, and without end." 

As our first parents thus pour forth their souls in 
prayer, Satan thinks of those happy days when his 
voice joined in the heavenly chorus of praise to the 
Creator ; and a great wave of remorse sweeps over 
him, for he realizes that had it not been for the curse 
of ambition, which had made him desire equality with 
God, he might still enjoy his peaceful home in Heaven, 
might still be Lucifer, the Son of the Morning, instead 
of Satan, the Enemy of Mankind. His past life comes 
up before him, and he recalls that dark day when 
there was war in Heaven ; how the crystal floor opened, 
and he and his rebel angels were cast down, down into 
the burning lake below. 

Again he feels the horrible agony that seized him 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 51 

when he awoke from his long sleep, and saw, lying 
around him, the prostrate forms of his companions. 

In imagination, he sees arise from the lake the 
splendid palace of Pandemonium, where he and his 
friends held their hateful council. He remembers 
their vow, "to execute fierce vengeance on God," and 
that he has been sent there to thwart the divine will by 
tempting Adam and Eve from the path of right. 

Shall he do it ? and again he looks at the pure 
beings before him. O that he were as innocent as they, 
and had never rebelled against his Heavenly Father ! 
His mind is tortured with shame and remorse. In his 
anguish, he cries out : — 

"Me miserable ! which way shall I fly 
Infinite wrath and infinite despair ? 
Which way I fly is Hell ; myself am Hell ; 
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep 
Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, 
To which the Hell I sufl^er seems a Heaven." 

Something within him whispers: "Repent, and 
ask forgiveness of God." But his wicked pride 
forbids , for he dreads the contempt of " the spirits 
beneath," whom he has seduced by promises that 
he can subdue the Omnipotent. He knows, too, that 



52 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE 

were he restored to his former high position among 
the angels in Heaven, his old ambition would awaken, 
for he is not willing to be second even when the first 
is God. 

So after a long and terrible struggle, he makes 
his choice : — 

"Farewell hope, and with hope, farewell fear; 
Farewell remorse ! all good to me is lost ; 
Evil, be thou my good ; by thee at least 
Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold ; 
As man ere long, and this new world shall 
know . " 

But the picture is too sad ; let us turn to this 
brighter one of Adam and Eve in their " delicious 
Paradise." 

"Overhead upgrew 
Insuperable^ height of loftiest shade. 
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, 
A silvan scene ; and, as the ranks ascend 
Shade above shade, a woody theatre 
Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops 
The verdurous ^ wall of Paradise up-sprung ; 

Insuperable — not capable of being passed over. 

Verdurous — covered with vegetation. * 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 53 

And higher than that wall a circling row 
Of goodliest trees, laden with fairest fruit, 
Blossoms and fruits at once, of golden hue 
Appeared, with gay enamelled colors mixed : 
On which the Sun more glad impressed his beams 
Than on fair evening cloud, or humid bow. 
When God hath showered the earth ; so lovely 

seemed 
That landscape." 

Here in this beautiful Paradise, dwelt our first 
parents : — 

"The loveliest pair 
That ever since in love's embraces met : 
Adam, the goodliest man of men since born 
His sons ; the fairest of her daughters, Eve." 

Their life in this delightful spot is like a beautiful 
dream. Toil and sorrow and sin are, to them, 
names unknown. Their labor in the garden is only 
enouo'h to make them better enjoy the cool zephyr 
and the taste of the delicious fruits, which they can 
pluck from the tree as they recline on the soft, 
downy bank " damasked ^ with flowers." 

About them, played all the beasts of the earth ; for 



Damasked — adorned . 



54 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

the time has not yet come when the lower animals 
flee before the approach of man. They hold sweet 
converse together, and Eve relates her first conscious- 
ness of existence : — 

" That day I oft remember, when from sleep 
I first awaked, and found myself reposed 
Under a shade on flowers, much wondering where 
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. 
Not distant far from thence, a murmuring sound 
Of waters issued from a cave, and spread 
Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved, 
Pure as the expanse of Heaven ; I thither went 
With inexperienced thought and laid me down 
On the green bank, to look into the clear 
Smooth lake, that to me seemed another sky. 
As I bent down to look,just opposite, 
A shape within the watery gleam approached, 
Bending to look on me ; I started back. 
It started back : but pleased I soon returned ; 
Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks 
Of sympathy and love." 

So the day passes in happy labor and peaceful 
rest, until evening comes on, and Twilight gray 
clothes all things in her sober Jivery. 



SIR ROGER DE COVERLET, 



55 




JOSEPH ADDISOX. 



SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

The next is a picture of which I am very fond, 
and one which has a conspicuous place in my 
mental gallery. It is the portrait of an old man. 
The abundant hair, which is lightly tossed back 
from the broad forehead, is streaked with gray; 
but the brightness of the dark eye is undimmed. 
A genial, whimsical smile plays about the mouth ; 
while the kindly feeling, which beams from the 
whole countenance, indicates a warm, generous 
heart. 

The artist, Joseph Addison, loved this old man 
dearly, and has told the world all about him, so 
that it, too, has come to love him. 

His name was Sir Roger de Coverley, and he was 
a rich country baronet of ancient descent. Addison 
first met him when they were both members of a 
popular club in London, and the acquaintance thus 
formed soon ripened into warm friendship. It was 
not long before he was invited by Sir Roger to visit 
him in his ancestral home, and it was at this time 

67 



68 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

that he became so well acquainted with the old 
knight's many virtues and his harmless little oddities. 

Coverley Hall was a charming old place, not 
far away from London ; and here Sir Roger lived, 
respected and beloved by all the country round. 
There had been a little romance in his early life, 
which explains why this lovable old man had never 
married. 

When he was about twenty-two years old, he 
met a pretty young widow, who by her artful 
ways, completely captivated his affections. But she 
had a female confidant, who did not look with favor 
upon Sir Roger: and, by her mischief-making powers, 
she prevented the young man from declaring his love 
to the lady of his heart. This was a heavy blow to 
Sir Roger; and, from this time can be dated many 
of his queer little ways. 

But, in spite of his disappointment, the knight had 
lived very happily all these years in his comfortable 
home; much more happily, I have no doubt, than 
if the bewitching widow had been his fireside 
companion. Indeed, it would have been hard to find 
a more contented household than that at Coverley 
Hall, 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 59 

The old Squire was so kind to his servants 
that they had no desire to leave him, and so had 
grown gray in his service. Looking upon him as 
their best friend, they gave him a willing and grateful 
obedience. They were always eager to do him some 
little kindness, and showed the keenest anxiety when 
he betrayed any of the infirmities of age. A cozy, 
happy family they were ; loving and sympathetic 
friends, rather than master and servants. 

As I was looking at the pictured face of the dear 
old man the other evening, and thinking how much I 
should like to have known him, I fell into a gentle 
doze, and immediately Morpheus ^ transported me to 
Coverley Hall. 

There sat Sir Roofer in his bis: arm-chair before a 
blazing wood fire. He gave me the heartiest of 
welcomes, when I told him that I was well acquainted 
with his friend, Addison; and soon we were chatting 
away, as if we had known each other for years. 

" Yes," said he, after we had talked for some time, 
" I am a bachelor ; and it is entirely the fault of the 
beautiful widow, whom I have known all my life. 
If it had not been for that troublesome friend of hers, 

IMorpheus — god of dreams. 



60 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

I should have told her of my love, and we should 
have been happy. Ah ! she has certainly the finest 
hand of any woman in the world." 

While the knio^ht fell to tbinkins^ of his old sweet- 
heart, I took a good look at him. There was the 
same kind face that I had gazed upon so often ; but 
the lines about the mouth were deeper, and the hair 
more plentifully sprinkled with gray than in my 
picture. I noticed that the cut of his garments 
was old-fashioned ; and then I remembered to have 
heard that he had not changed his style of dress, 
since he was repulsed by the pretty widow. 

Wishino^ to arouse the old knis^ht from his musinojs 
I asked him if he had seen his friend Will Wimble, 
lately. 

"I settled a dispute between him and Tom 
Touchy the other day," replied Sir Roger; "Tom, 
you know, is famous for ^taking the law' of 
everybody. 

"And in whose favor did you decide?" I said. 

" Oh ! I gave my usual verdict," and his eye 
twinkled roguishly, "that much might be said on both 
sides." 

We talked a long time by the glowing fire. He 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 61 

told me of his visit to London, and how much he 
enjoyed Westminster Abbey. ''That guide," said 
Sir Roger, "is an extraordinary fellow. Why, his 
head is packed full of knowledge. I should like 
to have him here to entertain me these lang winter 
evenings. 

"But didn't you go to the theatre?" I asked. 

"Oh! yes," he replied," but there again I was 
surprised. The play was not at all according to your 
dramatic rules, as you call them. Do you think 
that people in tragedy should try to be understood? 
Why, there wasn't a single sentence in the whole 
of it that I didn't know the meaning of." 

Before I had time to give the old gentleman 
any answer, he abruptly changed the subject and 
said: "As it is Sunday evening, would you not 
like to go with me to hear my chaplain preach ? " I 
told him that there was nothing I should like better, 
and soon we were on our way. 

As we went through a certain pleasant walk 
not far from the house, the old man looked around 
him with a smile and said : " This is the place 
wherein I used to muse upon the perverse widow ; 
and by that custom I can never come into it, but 



62 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

the same tender sentiments revive in my mind, 
as if I had actually walked with that beautiful 
creature under these shades. 

"I have been fool enough to carve her name on 
the bark of several of these trees ; so unhappy is the 
condition of men in love, to attempt the removing 
of their passion by the methods which serve only 
to imprint it deeper. She has certainly the finest 
hand of any woman in the world." 

We walked on in silence until we drew near 
the church. Then turning to me, he said that 
Archbishop Tillotson was to preach that evening ; 
and when he saw my look of amazement, he laughed 
and explained to me what he meant. 

"At my chaplain's first settling with me," said 
Sir Koger, " I made him a present of all the good 
sermons which have been printed in English, and 
only begged of him that every Sunday, he would 
deliver one of them from the pulpit. Accordingly, 
he has arranged them in such a series that they 
follow one another naturally, and make a continued 
system of practical divinity. So now, I am always 
sure of hearing a good sermon every Sunday." 

We entered the church ; and as I took my seat 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATtfRE. 63 

and looked around, I saw many a token of Sir 
Roger's kind liberality. 

He whispered to me that when he first came to 
his estate, he found his parishioners very irregular in 
their attendance, and not inclined to take part in the 
services when they did come. So he gave every 
one of them a hassock to kneel upon and a common 
prayer-book out of which to make the responses ; 
and, at the same time, employed a singing master 
to teach them the tunes of the Psalms. 

The Squire could certainly find no fault with 
them that evening, for they knelt and joined in the 
responses with great fervor. 

It was here at church that I noticed many of 
Sir Roger's little peculiarities about which I had 
heard so much. If he happened to be pleased with 
a certain verse of the hymn, he would linger on it 
half a minute after the rest had finished. 

Now and then, he would take a little nap ; but if, 
on awaking, he saw anybody else nodding, he would 
send his servant to wake up the poor fellow ; 
from which I judged that the Squire would allow 
no one but himself the privilege of sleeping in 
church. 



64 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Sometimes, when he particularly liked the 
•prayer, he would say "x4.men" three or four times; 
and once, when everybody else Avas kneeling, I saw 
him stand up to count the congregation, or to see if 
any of his tenants were missing. 

When the sermon was finished, nobod}^ dared to 
stir until Sir Koger had left the church. As he 
walked out between a double row of his tenants, 
who stood bowing to him on each side, he took the 
opportunity to ask after the health of such a one's 
father, or wife, or sister, which was always under- 
stood to be a secret reprimand to the absent one. 

This odd behavior did not seem to lessen the old 
Squire's influence over his people, for their faces 
beamed with reverence and affection as he passed by. 
They loved him so well that everything he did 
seemed perfectly right in their eyes. 

As we walked homewards. Sir Eoger asked me 
how I liked his chaplain ; and when I told him how 
delighted I was with the sermon, and how charmed 
with the chaplain's graceful figure and fine delivery, 
he said : "I thought you would be pleased with him, 
and now I must tell you how I happened to obtain 
such a treasure. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 65 

" I did not want to be insulted with Latin and 
Greek at my own table, and so I desired a particular 
friend of mine at the University to find me out a 
clergyman rather of plain sense than much learning, 
of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, 
and, if possible, a man that understood a little of 
backgammon. My friend found me out this gentle- 
man, who, besides the endowments required of him, 
is, they tell me, a good scholar. 

"I have given him the parsonage of the parish; 
and because I know his value, I have settled upon 
him a good annuity for life. If he outlives me, he 
shall find that he was higher in my esteem thaii 
perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with me 
thirty years ; and though he does not know I have taken 
notice of it, he has never in all that time asked anything 
of me for himself, though he is every day soliciting 
me for something in behalf of one or another of my 
tenants, who are his parishioners. 

So the worthy Squire rambled on in his delightful 
way until Coverley Hall was reached. We entered 
its hospitable door, and sat down beside the big 
roaring fire. I had just turned to Sir Roger with 
a question about the gallant Will Honeycomb, when 



66 



PICTURES PROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



a mist came before my eyes. One last glimpse of 
the old Squire in his high-backed oaken chair ; then all 
vanished, and I found myself sitting in the moon- 
light in my own quiet room, gazing at the pictured 
face of my dear old friend. 




THE HOME OF THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 



67 




OLm:R GOLDSMITH, 



THE HOME OF THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

"At the foot of a sloping hill, and sheltered with 
a beautiful underwood behind and a prattling river 
before," stands a little low Eno^lish cottao^e, v^ith 
thatched roof and vine-covered porch. Adjoining 
the house, is. a neat garden with sweet old-fashioned 
flowers and a long row of gooseberry bushes; and 
near by, a rustic seat shaded by a hedge of hawthorn 
and honeysuckle. 

A simple little picture, is it not? Yet it is 
beautiful to me because it represents the home of 
the Vicar of Wakefield, one of the best of men that 
I ever knew. ^ 

If you are not acquainted with this good man 
and his family, let me introduce them to you, for 
I know that a knowledge of their simple virtues 
cannot fail to interest you. 

Dr. Primrose, the Vicar, is an unworldly, peace- 

"E'en his failings lean 
To virtue's side." 

Of a generous and hospitable nature, his house 

69 



70 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

is open to all. The blind, the halt, and the maimed 
find there a safe asylum, and a sympathetic ear into 
which to pour their tale of Avoe. 

"The long remembered beggar is his guest, 
Whose beard, descending, sweeps his aged breast; 
The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud. 
Claims kindred there, and has his claim allowed ; 
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay. 
Sits by his fire, and talks the night away ; 
Weeps o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done. 
Shoulders his crutch, and shows how fields were won. 
Pleased with his guests, the good man learns to glow. 
And quite forgets their vices in their woe." 

But the Vicar has one hobby ; namely, matrimony. 
He maintains that it is unlawful for a minister of 
the Church of England to marry the second time ; 
or, as he expresses it, he is a monogamists He has 
published several tracts on this important subject ; 
and, as they have never sold very well, he has the 
satisfaction of thinking that they are read only by 
the "happy few." 

Mrs. Primrose is a most devoted wife and 
mother. The Vicar says that he chose her as she 

IMonogamist— one who does not believe in second marriages. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 71 

chose her wedding gown, "not for a fine glossy 
surface, but for such qualities as would wear 
well." She is certainly an excellent housewife, and 
is specially noted for her gooseberry-wine, which 
she most generously presses upon every chance 
visitor. Fond of keeping up appearances, impulsive 
and credulous, she often thwarts her husband's 
wishes ; but he loves her too tenderly not to over- 
look her little womanly vanities and contrivances. 

Both Dr. Primrose and his wife are proud of their 
healthy and blooming family, and believe that they 
could have given to their country no more valuable 
present than their six children. George, their oldest 
son, not having won the lady of his love, has gone out 
into the world to seek his fortune. 

The two daughters, Olivia and Sophia, are the 
pride of their mother's heart, for in them she sees a 
second self. Her vanity and satisfaction are sometimes 
laughable to see. "Hold up your heads, girls," she 
will often say, "hold up your heads ! Handsome is 
that handsome does." And indeed they are beau- 
tiful girls, as you will find in all the country 
round; Olivia, sprightly and commanding; and 
Sophia, modest and gentle. 



72 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

The second son, Moses, is still a student at home ; 
and, like many another boy of sixteen, he thinks that 
no one else knows quite so much about the ancients as 
he does. Last, but by no means least, come the 
two little boys, Bill and Dick, who are the pets of 
the whole family. 

Now that I have described to you the different 
members of the family, wouldn't you like to take 
an imaginar}^ peep into the little cottage? We will 
look only into one room, which serves for both 
parlor and kitchen. 

How snug and* cosy everything is! The clean, 
whitewashed w^alls, the bright array of plates on the 
shelves of the dresser, and the air of neatness all 
around, make up for the lack of costly furniture. 
How pretty are the plants in the window, and the 
vines that clamber over the porch ! 

There, in the warm corner of the fireside, is the 
Yicar's arm-chair, in which he sits and talks to 
his children as they gather around him in the 
pleasant cA^ening time. 

But wdiat is that hano-ino^ over the mantel in such 
an elegant frame ? It reads : " Sacred to the memory 
of Deborah Primrose, one of the best of women as 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITEllATURE. 73 

well as the most prudent of housewives, and the 
only wife of Dr. Primrose." 

Ah 1 I rememl^er. The good doctor wants to 
display his principles concerning monogamy ; and so, 
while his wife is yet living, he has had this epitaph 
written, and hung up over the mantel, where she can 
see it every day. 

"Here," he says, "it serves two purposes: it 
reminds my wife of her duty to me, and my fidelity 
to her ; while it inspires her with a passion for 
fame, and constantly puts her in mind of her 
end." 

Do you see that large picture leaning against 
the side of the wall? Well, there is quite an 
amusing story connected with it, and, as the Yicar 
has told it to me a number of times, I am going 
to give it to you in his own words : — 

"My wife and daughters, happening to return a 
visit to neighbor Flamborough's, found that family 
had lately got their pictures drawn by a limner 2, who 
traveled the country, and took likenesses for fifteen 
shillings a head. As this family and ours had long 
a sort of rivalry in point of taste, our spirit took the 



2 Limner— a portrait painter. 



74 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

alarm at this stolen march upon us, and notwith- 
standing all I could say, and I said much, it was 
resolved that we should have our pictures done too. 

"Having, therefore, enga.o^ed the limner — for 
what could I do? — our next deliberation was to show 
the superiority of our tastes in the attitudes. As for 
our neighbor's famil}^ there were seven of them, and 
they were drawn with seven oranges, a thing quite 
out of taste, no variety in life, no composition in 
the world. We desired to have something in a 
brighter style, and, after many debates, at length 
came to a unanimous resolution of being drawn 
together, in one large historical family piece. This 
would be cheaper, since one frame would serve 
for all, and it would be infinitely more genteel ; 
for all families of taste were now drawn in the same 
manner. 

" As we did not immediately recollect an his- 
torical subject to hit us, we were contented each 
with being drawn as independent historical figures. 
M}^ wife desired to be represented as Venus ^, and the 
painter w^as asked not to be too frugal of his 
diamonds in her stomacher and hair. Her two little 

3 Venus — goddess of love and beauty. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 75 

ones were to be as Cupids^ by her side ; while I, 
in my gown and band, was to present her with 
my books on the Whistonian^ controversy. 

" Olivia would be drawn as an Amazon,^ sitting 
upon a bank of flowers, dressed in a green Joseph,"'' 
richly laced with gold, and a whip in her hand. Sophia 
was to be a shepherdess, with as many sheep as the 
painter could put in for nothing ; and Moses was to 
be dressed out with a hat and white feather. 

"Our taste so much pleased the Squire, that he 
insisted on being put in as one of the family, in 
the character of Alexander the Great at Olivia's feet. 
This was considered by us all as an indication of his 
desire to be introduced into the family, nor could we 
refuse his request. The painter was therefore set 
to work, and, as he wrought with assiduity^ and 
expedition, in less than four days the whole was 
completed. The piece was large, and it must be 
owned he did not spare his colors ; for which my 
wife gave him great praise. 

"We were all perfectly satisfied with hi,^ 

4 Cupid — god of love. 

5 Wnistonian—Ynierrmg to William Whiston, a strong supporter of monogamy. 

6 Amazon — a female wai-rior. 

7 Joseph — a riding dress. 
Bi Assiduity — diligence. 



7& PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

performance ; but an unfortunate circumstance, which 
had not occurred till the picture was finished, now 
struck us with dismay. It was so very large, that we 
had no place in the house to fix it. How we all came 
to disregard so material a point is inconceivable ; but 
certain it is, we had been all greatly remiss. 

" And now," said the Vicar, and here he always 
joins with me in a hearty laugh, " the picture, instead 
of gratifying our vanity, as we hoped, leans, in a most 
mortifying manner, against the kitchen w^all, where 
the canvas was stretched and painted — much too 
large to be got through any of the doors, and the jest 
of all our neighbors. One compares it to Robinson 
Crusoe's long boat, too large to be removed ; another 
thinks it more resembles a reel in a bottle ; some 
wonder how it can be got out, but still more are amazed 
how it ever got in." 

Did you notice that the Vicar spoke of a cer- 
tain Squire in the picture, who sat at Olivia's feet in 
the character of Alexander the Great? He is their 
landlord, a rich, dashing young gentleman, and a 
frequent visitor at the cottage. I have noticed that 
his coming brings a blush to Olivia's cheek, and 
a sparkle to the mother's eye ; from which I judge 



PICTURES FROM ENCxLISH LITERATURE. 77 

that he is not an unwelcome guest. The old Doctor, 
however, glances at him uneasily. He does not like 
the bold oflances of admiration and the low flatterino: 
tones. 

There is another visitor whom he likes much 
better. This is a Mr. Burchell, who won the grateful 
friendship of the family by his rescue of Sophia from 
drowning. They know nothing of him save that he is 
a man of intelligence and an agreeable companion. 
An air of mystery surrounds him. Althoug ap- 
parently a poor ■ man, he seems to have no settled 
occupation. 

He is a general favorite at the cottage, from 
Mrs. Primrose, whose good will he won long ago 
by his praise of her gooseberry-wine, to the two 
little boys, who take great delight in his songs and 
stories. If he were a man of birth and fortune, I 
am quite sure that Mrs. Primrose would not dislike 
him for a son-in-law. As it is, she looks quite serious 
when she sees him walking and talking with Sophia ; 
and even the Vicar shakes his head, when Mr. Burchell 
brings a pretty ribbon or some little trinket to their 
youngest daughter. 

For a lono^ time, the mother's areat desire has 



78 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

been to give her girls a winter in town ; and just 
now, her wish seems in a foir way to be realized. A 
few days ago, Squire Thornhill made them acquainted 
with two of his city friends, who, he says, are ladies 
of rank and fortune. 

They of course received a hearty welcome from 
the f[imily ; and when it was known that they wished 
to find two young lady companions who would return 
with them to the city, Mrs. Primrose's delight was 
unbounded, for she thought that here, at last, was 
the coveted opportunity for her daughters. So she 
hastened to make known what was in her mind. 

The ladies seemed to regard the proposition 
favorably, and the matter now rests with the Vicar. 
To tell the truth, he does not like the idea very well. 
He suspects that all is not so fair as it seems. The 
manners of the two city ladies do not please him, and 
their names are too high-sounding for his simple 
taste. Besides J he prefers to keep his daughters 
under his own protection. 

But I am afraid that the good Doctor's objections 
will be overruled by his wife, who is a very persistent 
woman, and has been known to sometimes influence 
her husband against his better judgment. She has 



i 

PICTURES FROM EJ^GLISH LITERATURE. 79 

this project very near her heart, and is encouraged in 
it by the Squire, who never fails to improve 
every opportunity which offers, for setting forth the 
advantages of a winter in town. 

Mr. Burchell, on the other hand, is as strongly 
opposed to the visit. He, also, is a little suspicious 
of Lady Blarney and Miss Carolina Wilhelmina 
Amelia Skeggs ; and he quite offended the two great 
ladies the other nis^ht by his " Fudo:e ! Fuds^e I " 
when they were telling of the eminent people with 
whom they were acquainted. Indeed, he has shown, 
on all occasions, his distrust of them so plainly, that 
Mrs. Primrose has become very indigmmt, and has 
more than once broadly hinted that he might be 
more profitably employed than in criticising his 
betters. 

The past few weeks have been one continual 
round of gaiety for the Primroses ; but the old Doctor, 
if I mistake not, will be glad to return to his quiet 
life once more. As for Mrs. Primrose, she is on the 
topmost wave of delight. Her dearest wish is to see 
her girls well settled in life, and she fondly hopes 
that the Squire's attentions to Olivia mean more than 
meets the eye. 



80 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

It is amusing to see her artful little waj^s. "If 
the cakes at tea are short and crisp, they are made 
by Olivia ; if the gooseberry-wine is well-knit, the 
gooseberries are of her gathering ; it is her fingers 
which give the pickles their peculiar green ; and 
in the composition of a pudding, it is her judgment 
that mixes the ingredients. Then she will somethnes 
tell the Squire that she thinks him and Olivia 
just of a size, and will bid both stand up to see 
w^hich is the taller." 

These skilful little contrivances, which she deems 
so impenetrable, but which are, in reality, so perfectly 
transparent to everybody, call forth an indulgent 
smile from the Vicar, but he says nothing. 

A funny little incident occurred on a certain 
Sunday not long ago. Mrs. Primrose got it into her 
head that, as there would be a great deal of company 
at church that day, they ought to ride instead of 
walk, as was their custom. 

" You know, Charles," she said, " that the church 
is two miles ofi*, and I protest I don't like to see 
ray daughters trudging up to their pew all blowzed^ 
and red with walking, and looking for all the world 

9 Blow zed — reddened by exposure to the wind. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 81 

as if they had been running a race. JSTow there are 
our two plough horses, the c(»lt that has been in 
our family these nine years, and his companion 
Blackberry, that has scarcely done an earthly thing 
for this month past. They are both grown fat 
and lazy. Why should they not do something as well 
as we?" 

In vain her husband objected, saying, that 
walking would be twenty times more genteel, as 
Blackberry was wall-eyed, and the colt wanted a tail ; 
that they both had a hundred vicious tricks ; and that 
there was but one saddle and pillion in the 'whole 
house. Mrs. Primrose was determined, and, as usual, 
had her way. The Vicar, knowing that it would take 
them some time to get started, walked on in advance, 
and they promised to follow. 

He reached the church, and waited for them 
nearly an hour ; but they did not appear. Finally, 
he was obliged to begin the service, but not without 
some misgivings as to the fate of his family. His 
anxiety increased as the morning wore away, and 
still no signs of their coming. So as soon as 
he could, he dismissed his congregation, and hastened 
homewards. 



82 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

When about half-way, he perceived the proces- 
sion coming slowly forward; Mrs. Primrose, Moses, 
and the two little boys on one horse, and Olivia and 
Sophia on the other. They had a most pitiful tale to 
relate. 

It seems that, when they had attempted to start 
away from the house, the horse refused to budge 
an inch ; and Mr. Burchell, who was passing by, 
was kind enough to beat them forward with his 
cudgel for about two hundred yards. Then the straps 
of Mrs. Primrose's pillion broke, and, of course, 
those had to be repaired before the company could 
advance. Next, one of the horses took it into 
his head to stand still, and neither threats nor blows 
could make him move on. They had just coaxed 
him into taking a few steps forward, when the Vicar 
met them. 

Poor Mrs. Primrose ! her disappointment and 
mortification were sad to see ; yet her husband could 
not wholly regret the mishap, for he thought it might 
teach her and her daughters a wholesome lesson in 
humility. 

This experience, however, did not immediately 
have the effect that the good Yicar desired ; for only 



i 

PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 83 

a few days passed before his wife proposed that now, 
as they could afford to hold up their heads a little 
higher in the world, they should sell the colt and buy 
a horse that would make a better appearance. 

The Vicar, as was his habit, offered numerous 
objections, all of which were successfully met by his 
wife ; and, at last, finding himself no match for her 
in argument, he yielded with the best grace possible 
under the circumstances. So it was agreed that the 
colt should be sold next day at a neighboring fair. 
But I will tell you the story as I heard the Vicar 
himself relate it one night, as we sat around the fire 
in the cozy sitting-room. 

"Now that we began to hold up our heads a little 
higher in the world, it was proposed that we sell the 
colt, which was grown old, at a neighboring fair, and 
buy us a horse that would make a pretty appearance 
at church or upon a visit. This, at first, I opposed 
stoutly; but it was stoutly defended. However, as 
I weakened, my antagonist gained strength, till at 
last it was resolved to part with him. 

"As the fair happened on the following day, I had 
intentions of going myself; but my wife persuaded 
me that I had got a cold, and nothing could prevail 



84 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

upon her to permit me to leave home. 'No, my 
dear,' said she, 'oar son Moses is a discreet boy, 
and can buy and sell to very good advantage ; you 
know all our great bargains are of his purchasing. 
He always stands out and higgles^, and actually tires 
them till he gets a bargain.' 

"As I had some opinion of my son's prudence, I 
was willing enough to entrust hnn with this commis- 
sion ; and the next morning I perceived his sisters 
mighty busy in fitting out Moses for the fair ; trim- 
ming his hair, brushing his buckles, and cocking his 
hat with pins. The business of the toilet being over, 
we had at last the satisfaction of seeing^ him mounted 
upon the colt, with a deal box before him to bring 
home groceries in. He had on a coat made of that 
cloth they call thunder and lightning, which, though 
grown too short, was much too good to be thrown 
away. His waistcoat, was of gosling green, and his 
sisters had tied his hair with a broad, black riband. 
We all followed him several paces from the door, 
bawling after him, ' Good luck! good luck!' till we 
could see him no lonoer. 

"The day was spent in pleasant expectation ; and 

d Higgle — to talk a good cleal. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 85 

as evening approached, we began to look for our 
son's return. My wife was the first to espy him. 

"^ As I live,' said she, 'yonder comes Moses with- 
out a horse, and the box at his back.' 

''As she spoke, Moses came slowly on foot, and 
sweating under the deal box, which he had strapped 
round his shoulders like a pedlar. 

"'Welcome, welcome, Moses! Well, my boy, 
what have you brought us from the fair ? ' 

"'I have brought you myself,' cried Moses, with 
a sly look, and resting the box on the dresser. ' Ay, 
Moses,' cried my wife, 'that we know; but where is 
the horse?' 'I have sold him,' cried INIoses, 'for 
three pounds five shillings and twopence.' ' Well 
done, my good boy,' returned she; 'I knew you 
would touch them off. Between ourselves, three 
pounds five shillings and twopence is no bad day's 
work. Come, let us have it, then.' 'I have brought 
back no money, 'cried Moses again. 'I have laid it 
all out in a bargain, and here it is,' pulling out a 
bundle from his breast ; ' here they are ; a gross of 
green spectacles, with silver rims and shagreen ^^ 
cases.' 'A gross of green spectacles!' repeated my 

10 Shagreen — aMnd of leather. 



86 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

wife, in a faint voice ; 'and you have parted with the 
colt, and brought us back nothing but a gross of 
green, paltry spectacles ! ' ' Dear mother,' cried the 
boy, ' why won't you listen to reason ? I had them at 
a dead bargain, or I should not have bought them. 
The silver rims alone will sell for double the money.' 

"'A fig for the silver rims,' cried my wife in a 
passion : 'I dare swear they won't sell for above 
half the money at the rate of broken silver, five 
shillings an ounce." ^ You need be under no uneasi- 
ness,' cried I, ^ about selling the rims, for they are 
not worth sixpence ; for I perceive they are only 
copper varnished over.' 'What?' cried my wife, 
'not silver! the rims not silver?' 'No,' cried I, 'no 
more silver than your saucepan.' 

"'And so,' returned she, 'we have parted with 
the colt, and have only got a gross of green spectacles 
with copper rims and shagreen cases ! the block- 
head has been imposed upon, and should have known 
his company better.' 'There, my dear,' cried I, ' you 
are wrong : he should not have known them at all.' 
'Hang the idiot!' returned she, 'to bring me such 
stuflT — if 1 had them I would throw them in the fire.' 
'There again, you are wrong, my dear,' cried I; 'for 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 87 

though they be copper, we will keep them by us — 
as copper spectacles, you know, are better than 
nothing.' 

"By this time, the unfortunate Moses was unde- 
ceived. He now saw that he had been imposed upon 
by a prowling sharper, who, observing his figure, had 
marked him for an easy prey. I, therefore, asked 
the circumstances of his deception. He sold the 
horse, it seems, and walked the fair in search of 
another. A reverend-looking man brought him to a 
tent, under pretence of having one to sell. ^Here,' 
continued Moses, ^ we met another man, very well 
dressed, who desired to borrow twenty pounds upon 
these, saying that he wanted money, and would 
dispose of tbem for a third of the value. The first 
gentleman, who pretended to be my friend, whispered 
to me to buy them, and cautioned me not to let so 
good an offer pass. I sent for Mr. Flamborough, oui 
neighbor, and they talked him up as finely as they 
did me ; and so at last we were persuaded to buy the 
two gross between us.' " 

Thus ended the story of Moses at the fair. There 
is a sequel to it in which the laugh is at the expense 
of Dr. Primrose, who proves himself no wiser than 



88 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

did his son Moses ; but I will leave that for him to 
tell you when you become better acquainted. 

And now, as we leave the little cottage, let me 
urge you to visit it again. I have told you only a bit 
about the delightful family w^ho inhabit it, but I hope 
that I have said enough to induce you to follow their 
fortunes further. 

If you are sufficiently interested to wonder 
whether or not Mrs. Primrose ever ojratified her 
desire to see her lovely daughters make a figure in 
the world, or whether the Vicar's life always proved 
so quiet and uneventful as at first, — if, in short, you 
wish to know anything more about them, I refer you 
to that dear old story-teller, Oliver Goldsmith, who 
has painted such humorous and pathetic pictures of 
this admirable family, that all the world has laughed 
and wept over them. 



LOCH KATRINE, 



89 




WALTER SCOTT. 



LOCH KATRINE. 

Another favorite of mine comes next. It is a 
beautiful lake among the Highlands of Scotland. 
Here and there upon its surface float little islands 
"empurpled bright ; " and surrounding it on all sides, 
are lofty mountains, which stand like giant sentinels 
to guard this enchanted spot. 

You are of course familiar with this picture, and 
will recognize the famous Loch Katrine, which Sir 
Walter Scott has painted in such a beautiful manner 
in his " Lady of the Lake." 

It is a charming scene : the lake shining in the 
golden light of the setting sun, the glowing colors of 
the sky, and the deep, rich hue of the mountains. 

Let us see if we can point out, in the picture, 
any of the places that we remember reading about in 
the poem. 

That small island near the outlet of the lake must 
be "Ellen's Isle," where sweet Ellen Douglas lived. 
Her father, you know, having been banished from the 
court of the Scottish King, fled with his little daughter 

91 



92 PICTURES PROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

to this wild mountain retreat, where he took refuge 
with his kinsman, Roderick Dhu. It was in this 
lonely spot that Ellen grew to beautiful womanhood, 
as simple and pure as the flowers upon her beloved 
mountains. 

Right there, on the left of the picture, is the 
'^ silver strand," where the young girl was sitting in 
her little skiff when she saw the "Knight of Snow- 
doun, James Fitz-James." She was somewhat 
startled, you remember, when she first beheld the 
huntsman standing there, dressed in his suit of Lin- 
coln green ; but when she looked again, and saw his 
stately form and noble face, she knew that he was to 
be trusted. So when he told her that he had lost his 
way, she felt that she could do no less than off*er him 
the hospitality of her simple home. 

It was fortunate for Ellen that she had already 
given her heart into the keeping of young Malcolm 
Graeme ; for if it had been in her possession, I fear 
that she would have lost it to the handsome stranger, 
as they glided over the lake that lovely evening. 

Near this spot, must have been the place where 
Ellen was wont to meet her father on his return from 
the chase. Do you remember how she used to get 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 93 

into her little boat as soon as she heard the distant 
sound of his bugle, and hasten thither that she might 
have the pleasure of rowing him across the lake? 
That ^as a strong, tender love which bound the 
father to his child. 

" Some feelino^s are to mortals iriven 
With less of earth in them than heaven : 
And if there be a human tear 
From passion's dross refined and clear, 
A tear so limpid and so meek 
It would not stain an angel's cheek, 
'Tis that which pious fathers shed 
Upon a duteous daughter's head ! 
And as the Douglas to his breast 
His darling Ellen closely pressed, 
Such holy drops her tresses steeped. 
Though 'twas an hero's eye that weeped." 

Do you see that craggy hill rising above Loch 
Katrine? It is called Benvehue, and it was there 
that Douglas sought shelter for himself and Ellen. 
You know that Eoderick Dhu loved the young 
maiden, and wished her to be his wife ; but the 
father could not think of giving his fair young 
daughter to the bold outlaw, and so he took her to 
this deserted cave upon the mountain's side. 



94 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

That last Avalk over these solitary heights must 
have been a sad one for Roderick. He knew that 
Ellen's place of refuge was somewhere among these 
wilds ; and he had come hoping to catch one farewell 
sound of her beloved voice. How his heart must 
have throbbed with both joy and grief, as the words 
of the beautiful hymn came floating to his ears ! — 

" Ave Maria! maiden mild ! 

Listen to a maiden's prayer ! 
Thou canst hear though from the wild, 

Thou canst save amidst despair. 
Safe may we sleep beneath thy care. 

Though banished, outcast, and reviled — 
Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ; 

Mother, hear a suppliant child ! " 

Poor Roderick ! he realized that he would never 
hear that angel voice again ; and he was not too 
proud to wipe away a tear. But his mood soon 
changed, and he was once more the haughty chieftain 
on his way to meet the brave followers assembled at 
Lanrick mead. 

It was in this wild glen, also, that a different 
scene took place a few days later, Avhen the unknown 
knight again appeared* Ah ! it was Ellen's bright 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 95 

eyes which had lured him hither. But I never could 
feel sorry for the visit ; for, although the gallant 
Fitz- James carried away a disappointed heart, he left 
behind a token which was to bring a happy fortune to 
our dear Ellen. 

I wish we could pomt out Coilantogle's Ford, 
where Roderick I)hu and this same brave knio^ht 
fought their famous duel ; but the picture does not 
include that region. What a grand scene it was ! 
Do you remember where the Chieftain was guiding 
James Fitz- James along the mountain-path, and the 
latter expressed a strong desire to see this bold Rod- 
erick Dhu and all his band ? I have read the passage 
many times, yet it still awakens the old thrill of 
enthusiasm. 

" ^ Have then thy wish ! ' He whistled shrill. 
And he was answered from the hill ; 
Wild as the scream of the curlew. 
From crag to crag the signal flew. 
Instant, through copse and heath, arose 
Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; 
On right, on left, above, below. 
Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 
From shingles^ gi^ay their lances start, 

1 Shingles — gravel. 



96 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 
The rushes and the willow wand 
Are bristling into axe and brand, ^ 
And every tuft of broom gives life 
To pi aided warrior armed for strife. 
That whistle garrisoned the glen 
At once with full live hundred men, 
As if the yawning hill to heaven 
A subterranean^ host had given. 

"Watching their leader's beck and will. 
All silent there they stood and still. 
Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 
Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 
As if an infant's touch could urae 
Their headlong passage down the verge. 
With step and weapon forward flung. 
Upon the mountain-side they hung. 
The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 
Along Benledi's living side. 
Then fixed his eye and sable brow 
Full on Fitz-James : ^ How say'st thou now ? 
These are Clan- Alpine's warriors true ; 
And, Saxon, I am Roderick Dhu I ' 

"Fitz-James was brave : — though to his heart 
The life-blood thrilled with sudden start, 

2 Brand — sword. 

% Subterranean — lying under the surface of the earth. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LTTERATURE. 97 

He manned himself with dauntless air, 
Returned the Chief his haughty stare, 
His back against a rock he bore, 
And firmly placed his foot before : 
'Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 
From its firm base as soon as I.' 
Sir Roderick marked, — and in his eyes 
Respect was mingled with surprise, 
And the stern joy which warriors feel 
In foeman worthy of their steel. 
Short space he stood — then waved his hand ; 
Down sunk the disappearing band ; 
Each warrior vanished where he stood. 
In broom or bracken,^ heath or wood ; 
Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 
In osiers pale and copses low ; 
It seemed as if their mother Earth 
Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 
The wind's last breath had tossed in air 
Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 
The next but swept a lone hill-side. 
Where heath and fern were waving wide. 
The sun's last glance was glinted back 
From spear and glaive,^ from targe and jack,^ 



4 Bracken — fern. 

5 (?/m<erf — flashed. 

6 Glaive — a broadsword. 

7 From targe and Jack — from shield and coat of armor. 



98 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

The next, all unreflectecl, shone 

On bracken green and cold gray stone. 

" Fitz-James looked round, — yet scarce believed 
The witness that his siaht received ; 
Such apparition well might seem 
Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 
And to his look the Chief replied : 

'Fear naught — nay, that I need not say — 
But — doubt not aught from mine array. 
Thou art mine guest ; — I pledged my word 
As far as Coilantogle Ford : 
Nor would I call a clansman's brand 
For aid against one valiant hand. 
Though on our strife lay every vale 
Rent by the Saxon^ from the Gael.^ 
So move we on ; — I only meant 
To show the reed on which you leant. 
Deeming this path you might pursue 
Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.' 
They moved ; — I said Fitz-James was brave 
As ever knight that belted glaive, 
Yet dare not say that now his blood 
Kept on its wont and tempered flood. 
As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 

8 Saxon — Lowlander. 

9 Cae^— Highlander. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 99 

That seeming lonesome pathway through, 
Which yet by fearful proof was rifei^ 
With lances, that, to take his life, 
Waited but sional from a a'uide, 
So late dishonored and defied. 
Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 
The vanquished guardians of the ground, 
And still from copse and heather deep 
Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 
And in the plover's'^ shrilly strain 
The si'o^nal whistle heard aoain. 
Nor breathed he free till far behind 
The pass was left ; for then they wind 
Along a wide and level green. 
Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 
Is or rush nor bush of broom was near. 
To hide a bonnet or a spear." 

So they walked on together, the proud Outlaw 
and the ofallant Saxon, until Coilantoo^le's Ford was 
reached; and there, as you know, was fought the 
fatal duel. 

It seems hard for either of these brave men to 
die ; but nothing else would satisfy Koderick, and so 
he had to pay the penalty of his fool-hardiness. It 

10 i22/e— abounding, 

11 P/ovcr — a bird frequenting the seasliore and banks of rivers. 

1.0FC 



100 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

must have been very humiliating to the bold Chieftain 
to find himself in King James's palace, a prisoner and 
mortally wounded. How pathetic a scene that was, 
where the old minstrel, Allen- bane, sat beside the 
couch of the dying man, and sang to him the story of 
the fierce battle which had been raging all that day ! 

" Clan-Alpine's honored Pine " was bent at last, 
and would never again upraise its stately form. 

We have now pointed out all the familiar places 
in the picture before us ; but I have another sketch, a 
smaller one, which I hang over this picture of Loch 
Katrine. I know it will interest you, because it rep- 
resents a scene in Stirling Castle ; and Sir Walter 
describes it in such a pretty way that I want you to 
read with me what he says : — 

" Within 'twas brilliant all and light, 
A thronoinor scene of fissures brio-ht ; 
It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight. 
As when the setting sun has given. 
Ten thousand hues to summer even. 
And from their tissue fancy frames 
Aerial knights and fairy dames. 
Still by Fitz-James her footing staid ; 
A few faint steps she forward made, 

' Then slow her drooping head she raised, 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 101 

And fearful round the presence^^ gazed ; 
For him she sought who owned this state, 
The dreaded Prince whose will was fate ! — 
She gazed on many a princely port 
Mio'ht well have ruled a roval court ; 
On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 
Then turned bewildered and amazed. 
For all stood bare ; and in the room 
Fitz- James alone Avore cap and plume. 
To him each lady's look was lent. 
On him each courtier's eye was bent ; 
Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen. 
He stood, in simple Lincoln green. 
The centre of the Hitterino^ rino- — 
And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King. 

" As wreath of snow on mountain-breast 
Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 
Poor Ellen glided from her stay. 
And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; 
No word her chokino^ voice commands, — 
She showed the ring, — she clasped her hands. 
Oh ! not a moment could he brook. 
The generous Prince, that suppliant look ! 
Gently he raised her, — and, the while. 
Checked with a glance, the circle's smile ; 
Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, 

12 Presence— presence-chamber; the room iu which a great person receives guests, 



102 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

And bade her terrors be dismissed : — 
^Yes, fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James 
The fealty^ ^ of Scotland chiims. 
To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; 
He will redeem his si'o-net rins^. 
Ask naught for Douglas ; — yester even. 
His Prince and he have much forgiven ; 
Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 
I, from his rebel kinsman, wrong. 
We would not to the vulgar crowd. 
Yield what they craved with clamor loud ; 
Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 
Our council aided and our laws. 
1 stanched thy father's death-feud stern 
With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn ; 
And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 
The friend and bulwark of our throne. — 
But, lovely infidel^^, how now? 
What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? 
Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; 
Thou must confirm this doubtino- maid.' 

"Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 
And on his neck his dauohter huns^. 
The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 
The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — 

13 Fealty — aaelitx. 

14 Infidel — an unbeliever. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 103 

When it can say with God-like voice, 

Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! 

Yet would not James the general eye 

On nature's raptures long should pry ; 

He stepped between — 'Nay, Douglas, nay. 

Steal not my prose lyte^^ away ! 

The riddle 'tis my right to read. 

That brought this happy chance to speed. i^ 

Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 

In life's more low but happier way, 

'Tis under name which veils my power, 

Nor falsely veils — for Stirling's tower 

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims. 

And Normans call me James Fitz- James. 

Thus watch I o'er insulted laws. 

Thus learn to right the injured cause.' 

Then, in a tone apart and low, — 

Ah ! little traitress ! none must know 

What idle dream, what lighter thought. 

What vanity full dearly bought. 

Joined to thine eyes' dark witchcraft, drew 

My spell-bound steps to Benvenue 

In dangerous hour, and all but gave 

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! ' 

Aloud he spoke : ' Thou still dost hold 



15 Proselyte — new convert. 

16 To speed— to a successful result. 



104 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

That little talisman^'' of gold, 

Pledge of my f\iith, Fitz-James's ring, — 

AYhat seeks fair Ellen of the Kino- ? ' 

" Full well the conscious maiden o^aessed 
He probed the weakness of her breast ; 
But with that consciousness there came 
A lightening of her fears for Graeme, 
And more she deemed the Monarch's ire 
Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire 
Kebellious broadsword boldly drew : 
And, to her generous feeling true, 
She craved the grace of Eoderick Dhu. 

' Forbear thy suit ; — the King of kings 
Alone can stay life's parting wings. 
I know his heart, I know his hand. 
Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand ;- 
My fairest earldom would I give^ 
To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live I 
Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 
No other captive friend to save ? ' 
Blushing, she turned her from the King, 
And to the Douglas o-ave the rino^, 
As if she wished her sire to speak 
The suit that stained^^ her glowing cheek. 
*Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 
And stubborn justice holds her course. 

17. T'^Usman — something supposed to produce a magical effect in preventing evil, 

18. /Stained - flushed. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 105 

Malcolm, come forth ! ' — and at the word, 
Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. 
^For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues. 
From thee may Yengeance claim her dues. 
Who nurtured underneath our smile. 
Hast paid our care by treacherous wile,!^ 
And sought amid thy faithful clan 
A refuge for an out-lawed man. 
Dishonoring thus thy loyal name. — 
Fetters and warder for the Graeme ! ' 
His chain of gold the King unstrung. 
The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, 
Then gently drew the glittering band. 
And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand." 

19 Treac terous wile — a plot for the betrayal of a trust. 



E LADY OF SHALOTT, 



107 




ALFRED TENNTSON-. 



THE LADY OF SHALOTT. 

A river flows gently through fields of tall, waving 
grain ; beside it, winds a road, leading to the many- 
towered city which can he faintly seen in the distance. 
In the middle of the stream, lies a little island encircled 
by water-lilies, from which rises an old castle with its 
massive walls. Lovely flowers cover the island, but 
the castle glooms ^ by itself apart in silent loneliness. 

Along the margin of the river, heavy barges drag 
their slow length, and silken-sailed shallops flit merrily 
by on their way to the city below ; but no sign of life 
comes from the island. No knight or lady looks forth 
from the casement or rides over the drawbridge. 

" Life and thought have gone away 
Side by side." 

Do you like the picture, and do you feel the 
mystery that pervades it? If you do, let me explain 
to you its meaning. 

The " many-towered city " of which we can just 
catch a glimpse is the famous city of Camel ot, the 

1 Glooms — looks dark. 

109 



110 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

home of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere and all the 
brave Knights of the Round Table ; while the silent 
isle in its circlet of lilies, is the fairy Island of Shalott. 
The legend runs that in the old gray castle there 
lived a beautiful lady. She had never been seen by 
the people as they journeyed past the island : and they 
would not have believed in her existence, had there 
not sometimes been heard, in the early morning or 
evenino- a faint, sweet sons: echoino: from the river. 
"'Tis the fairy Lady of Shalott," they would 
whisper ; and they listened eagerly lest they should 
lose the melodious strains. They did not know that 
the mysterious lady was compelled, by some magic 
power, alwaj^s to remain in the castle. Year after 
year went 1)}', but there she dwelt, always at work and 
always j^oung and beautiful. 

"There she weaves by night and day 

A magic web with colors gay. 

She has heard a whisper say, 

A curse is on her if she stay 

To look down to Camelot. 

She knows not what the curse may be, 

And so she weaveth steadil}^ 

And little other care hath she, 
The Lady of Shalott." 



I 

PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. HI 

But the outside world was not entirely closed to 
her view ; for, before her, hung a mirror in which were 
reflected all the sights that moved to and fro beneath 
her window. All day long and all night long, she 
watched the flickering shadows as they came and went. 

" Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, 
An Abbot 2 on an ambling pad 3, 
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad 
Or long-haired page ^ in crimson clad, 

Goes by toward Camelot ; 
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue, 
The knights come riding two and two ; 
She hath no royal knight and true, 

TheLady of Shalott." 

Often in the silent night, she would see a funeral 
train with its plumes and lights and music on its way 
to Camelot ; and sometimes at early evening, when 
the moon casts its silver radiance all around, there 
would 'flash into her mirror the moving forms of two 
happy young lovers. 

She was quite content as she sat there, steadily, 
steadily weaving ; and she took great delight in 

2 Abbot— the governor of a church or abbey. 
S Ambling pad — an easy pacing horse. 
4 Fage — an attendant on a nobleman. 



112 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

working into her magic web the many pictures which 
the clear sd'dss o^ave forth. 

One morning as she sat at work, a bright vision 
passed before her. It was that of bold Sir Launcelot, 
as he went gaily riding by. The crj^stal mirror had 
never before reflected so dazzling a vision. His 
jeweled armor, his graceful form, and handsome face 
seemed more to her than a passing shadow. As she^ 
heard his strong, clear voice ring out in a little snatch 
of melody, she felt that she must see him again ; and 
forgetful of the curse that hung over her, she left her 
work, and looked out of tiie window. 

"She left the web, she left the loom, 
She made three paces thro' the room, 
She saw the water-lily bloom, 
She saw the helmet and the plume, 

She looked down to Camelot. 
Out flew the web and floated wide ; 
The mirror cracked from side to side ; 
^The curse is come upon me,' cried 

The Lady of Shalott." 

Yes, the curse had fallen at last upon the beautiful 
lady. Her work had ceased ; and her heart, once so 
free and joyous, was now heavy and sad. Her thoughts 



I 

PICTURES FROM E.VGLISII LITERATURE. 113 

were ever with the gallant knight whose handsome 
face had flashed into her mirror. So the weary days 
dragged slowly by, until she felt that she could bear 
her aimless life no lons^er. 

One day, when the stormy east wind was blow- 
ing, and the woods were showering their yellow 
leaves, she w^ent forth from the gray old castle, down 
to the river-side. There she found a boat, afloat 
beneath a willow, and she wrote on its prow. The 
Lady of Shcdott. Then casting one longing look 
towards Came lot, she stepped into the boat. 

'' And at the closing of the day. 
She loosed the chain, and down she lay ; 
The broad stream bore her far away, 
The Lady of Shalott. 

"Lying robed in snowy white 
That loosely flew to left and right — - 
The leaves upon her falling light — 
Thro' the noises of the night. 

She floated down to Camelot ; 
And as the boat-head wound along 
The willowy hills and fields among, 
They heard her singing her last song, 

The Lady of Shalott, 



114 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

"Heard a carol, mournful, holy, 
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, 
Till her blood was frozen slowly, 
And her eyes were darkened wholly. 

Turned to towered Camelot. 
For ere she reached upon the tide 
The first house by the water-side, 
Singing in her song she died, 
^TheLady of Shalott." 

So the boat went floating through the streets of 
Camelot ; and as it passed 

"Under tower and balcony. 
By garden-wall and gallery," 

all the lords and ladies came out to see the lovely 
form lying there so still and cold. They wondered 
who she could be, when they read the strange name 
upon the prow ; and they looked sadly and reverently 
upon the pure, delicate face. 

" But Launcelot mused a little space ; 

He said, ^ She has a lovely face ; 

God in his mercy lend her grace, 

The Lady of Shalott.'" 

He little knew that it was his own winning face 
and knightly form which had charmed away the heart 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 115 

of the fairy lady, and that it was for love of him that 
the beautiful eyes were now closed in death ; while of 
all the courtly train, that followed to her last resting- 
place, not one could ever know why the mysterious 
lady came floating down to Gamelot. 

This is only one of many pictures in my mental 
gallery, which have been painted by that good English 
artist, Alfred Tennyson. There is a certain group of 
portraits which I look at very often. Elaine, "the 
lily-maid of Astolat," is among them ; and beside her 
hangs the strong, true Enid, that pattern of wifely 
devotion. The bewitching face of Guinevere looks 
out from the canvas, and next to her is Arthur, the 
pure and noble king, whom the beautiful queen loved 
too late for her own happiness. But above them all, 
hangs the grand face of Sir Galahad, the perfect 
knight ; and as I look at him, he seems to say : — 

" My strength is as the strength of ten 
Because my heart is pure." 



A GROUP OF SCOTTISH PICTURES, 



117 




ROBERT BURNS. 



THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 

The artist of the next group is one whom I have 
known and loved for many years ; and his pictures 
are hung in one of the choicest corners of my gallery. 
All the scenes are taken from bonnie' Scotland, that 
land of the moor and the mountain. 

The one in the centre of the group represents a 
family circle. It is Saturday night, and the father, 
a hard-working peasant, has come home after his 
week of toilsome labor. He sits beside his cozy fire, 
his lips parted in a happy smile as he dances upon his 
knee a prattling infant. Outside, the chill November 
wind blows loud ; but the sound of its angry voice 
only adds to the warmth and cheer within. 

"His wee bit ingle^ blinkin' bonnilie,^ 
His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile. 
Do all his weary, carkings cares beguile. 
An' make him quite forget his labor an' his toil." 



1 Wee bit ingle — small fire. 

2 Blmkin'' bonni'ie — hurning brightly. 

3 Carking — consuming. 

119 



120 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

Near him is the "thriftie wifie," who, never idle, 
sits by her little table, with her needle and shears, 
making old clothes "look amaist^ as weel's the new." 

Gathered about the father and mother are the 
children, the little ones playing about the floor, and 
the older boys and girls talking eagefly. 

These " elder bairns " are out at service among 
the neighboring farmers, and Saturday night is the 
only time when they all can be together. Is it any 
wonder, then, that their tongues wag merrily, as they 
tell of all that has happened during the past week ? 

The parents cast loving glances upon them ; the 
mother loses herself in a pleasant dream of anticipa- 
tion, as she looks at Jenny, their eldest hope, now 
almost woman- o^rown ; while from the father's earnest 
gaze, I know that he is ready to give then a gentle 
word of advice . 

" Their masters' an' their mistresses' command 
The younkers a' are warned to obey ; 
An' mind their labors wi' an eydent^ hand. 

An' ne'er, tho' out of sight, to joke or play : 
' An' oh ! be sure to fear the Lord alway ! 



4 Amaist — almost. 

5 Ey dent— diligent. 



i 

PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 121 

An' mind your duty, duly, morn and night ! 
Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, 

Implore his counsel and assisting might : 

They never sought in vain that sought the Lord 
aright.'" 

It is only a small, plain room. The bare floor 
and meagre furniture show that Poverty has taken up 
her abode there ; but we do not think of that. We 
see only the sweet home-love that beams from every 
face ; and, in its celestial light, the poor peasant's 
cottage becomes grander tlian the palace of a king. 

Shall I complete the picture by telling you how 
this happy family are going to spend their Saturday 
even in o' ? 

o 

As they sit talking, there is heard a gentle rap at 
the door. 

"Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same. 
Tells how a neebor lad came o'er the moor, 
To do some errands, and convoy her hame. 
The wily mother sees the conscious flame 

Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; 
Wi' heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name. 
While Jenny hafllins« is a-fraid to speak ; 
Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, 
worthless rake, 

6 Hafflins — partly. 



122 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

"Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him in; 

A strapping youth ; he takes' the mother's eye ; 
Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 

The father cracks'^ of horses, ploughs, and kye. 

The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, 
But blate and laithful^, scarce can weel behave ; 

The mother, wi' a woman's wiles can spy^ 
What makes the youth sae bashful and sae grave ; 
Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like 
the lave." i« 

Soon it is supper-time, and the mother brings 
forth the steaming " parritch." i^ They all gather 
around the simple board, and do ample justice to this 
chief food of old Scotland. 

As a compliment to their young guest, the dame 
puts upon the table her " weel-hained kebbuck," ^^ 
which she has doubtless kept for just such an occasion 
as this. The poor lad feels that he must surely eat of 
it ; and although its sharp, biting taste brings the 
tears to his eyes, he dares not refuse. 

"An' aft he's pressed, an' aft he calls it good. 

7 Cracks — talks. 

SBlate and laithful — shame-faced and bashful. 

9 Spy — understand. 

10 Lave — rest. 

11 Parritch — porridge. 

12 Weel-hained kebbuck — carefully preserved cheese. 



I 

PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 123 



"The cheerful supper done, wi' serious face, 

They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; 
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, 

The big ha'-Bible,'^ once his father's pride : 

His bonnet reverently is laid aside. 
His Ivart haifets ^^ wearino^ thin and bare ; 

Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 
He wales 15 a portion with judicious care. 
And 'Let us worship God !' he says, with solemn air. 

"They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 
They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : 
Perhaps Dundee's ^^ wild, warbling measures rise. 

Or plaintive Martyrs i^, worthy of the name ; 

Or noble Elgin i^ bears the heavenward flame, — 
The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 

Compared with these Italian trills are tame ; 
The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise ; 

Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise." 

Then the "priest-like father" reads a chapter from 
the Bible. 



13 Ha' -Bible — the great Bible kept in the hall. 

14 Lyarthaffets — gray temples. 

15 Wales — chooses. 

IQ Dundee, Martyrs, Elgin — names of Scottish psalm tunes. 



124 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

'' How the royal Bard ^' did groaning lie 

Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenoino- ire ; 
Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; 
Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; 
Or other holy Seers ^^ that tune the sacred lyre. 



"Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, 

The saint, the father, and the husband prays : 
Hope ' springs exulting on triumphant wing,' 

That thus they all shall meet in future da3^s : 

There ever bask in uncreated rays. 
No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear. 

Together hymning their Creator's praise, 
In such society, yet still more dear ; 
While circling Time moves round in an eternal 
sphere." 

And. now, the pleasant evening draws to a close. 
With hearts warmed and strengthened b}^ their sincere 
devotions, the Dlder children bid their parents a 
loving good-night, and go their several ways, ready 
to encounter whatever may befall them during the 
coming week. The "youngling cottagers " are put to 



17 Bard— Baxid. 

18 Seers — prophets. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 125 

bed ; while the fond, anxious parents linger to offer 
up one last secret prayer : 

" That He who stills the raven's clamorous nest, 
And decks the lily fair in flowery pride. 
Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best. 
For them and for their little ones provide ; 
But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine 
preside." 

When Robert Burns painted this beautiful scene, 
he was thinking of his own dear home. Many a 
Saturday night had he seen at his father's fireside, 
just such a united family circle as he was putting 
upon the canvas ; and because he dipped his brush 
in the colors of truth and love, his picture is 
imperishable. 



A MOUNTAIN DAISY. 

Above the former picture, hangs a smaller one. 
A young peasant is at work in the field. It is a day 
in early spring, and he is ploughing. The morning 
is beautiful ; the birds are singing ; and the fresh, 
balmy air is a warning to Winter that he must hasten 
his lingering footsteps. 

The ploughboy has been working merrily; his 
sleeves are turned up, his straw hat is pushed off his 
moist forehead, and his whole appearance shows 
that he feels in perfect accord with the air and the 
sunshine. 

In the picture, he is stooping down, looking at 
the mischief which has been done by his plough-share. 
A little pink *and white daisy, the only one that has 
yet ventured to show its head above the ground, lies 
crushed and broken. All the cold winter, it has been 
sleeping under the earth ; but the bright spring sun 
wakened it from its nap, and coaxed it out of its dark 
home. And now it has perished ! 

The young man thinks of all this as he holds the 

126 



PICTURES EROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 127 

little flower in his hand, and his heart overflows with 
tenderness and sympathy. 

" Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower, 
Thou'st met me in an evil hour ; 
For I maun crush amang the stoure^ 

Thy slender stem : 
To spare thee now is past my power, 

Thou bonnie gem. 

"Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, 
The bonnie Lark, companion meet,^ 
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet,^ 

Wi' speckled breast, 
When upward-springing, blithe, to greet 

The purpling east ! 

" Cauld blew the bitter-biting north 
Upon thy early, humble birth ; 
Yet cheerfully thou glinted^ forth 

Amid the storm. 
Scarce reared above the parent-earth 

Thy tender form. 



1 Stoure — dust. 

2 Meet — suitable. 

3 ^eet — wet. 

4 Glinted — glanced. 



128 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

"The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, 
High sheltering woods and wa's^ maun shield ; 
But thou, beneath the random bield^ 

0' clod or stane, 
Adorns the histie"^ stibble-field, 

Unseen, alane. 

"There, in thy scanty mantle clad. 
Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, 
Thou lifts thy unassuming head 

In humble guise ; 
But now the share up-tears thy bed. 

And. low thou lies I 

"Even thou who mourn'st the daisy's fate, 
That fate is thine — no distant date ; 
Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate. 

Full on thy bloom, 
Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight 

Shall be thy doom ! " 

JFa's — walls. 
Bield — shelter. 
Histie — dry. 



A MOUSE'S NEST. 

Beside the " Mountain Daisy " hangs a companion 
picture. We see the same field and the same young 
ploughman ; but the beauty and freshness of spring 
have departed. November is abroad ; her chilly 
winds have driven away the birds, and withered the 
sweet flowers. Cold, gray clouds go hurrying across 
the sky. The trees no longer spread out their leafy 
pavilions,^ but stand straight and tall like grini 
sentinels at their post of duty. 

The peasant-boy is again looking at the mischief 
he has unconsciously wrought. A little mouse had 
snugly tucked himself away under a heap of dry 
leaves, thinking that he was safely housed for the 
winter ; but the cruel ploughshare has passed right 
though his cozy dwelling, and left him no shelter 
from the rough blast. 

"Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie. 
Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie ! 
Thou need na start awa' sae hasty, 



1 Pavilions — tents. 



129 



130 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

Wi' bickering brattle ! ^ 
I wad be laith ^ to rin an' chase thee, 
Wi' murdering pattle I ^ 

" I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
Has broken nature's social union, 
An' justifies that ill opinion, 

Which makes thee startle 
At me, thy poor earth-born companion, 
An' fellow mortal ! 

"I doubt na, whyles ^, but thou may thieve ; 
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live ! 
A daimen-icker 6 in a thrave"^ 

'S a sma' request : 
ril get a blessin' wi' the lave,® 

And never miss't. 

'^Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin I 
Its silly wa's the winds are strewin' ! 
An' naething, now, to big a new ane, 

O' foo^ojao^e screen ! 
An* bleak December's winds ensuin', 

Baith snell9 and keen ! 

2 Braiile —hnrTj . 

3 Laiih —loth. 

i Pattle — -plough statt. 

5 rr^Zes — sometimes. 

6 Daimen-icke) — ear of corn. 

7 7%rai'e — twenty-four sheaves. 
%Lave — TQs,t. 

% Snell—hiiing, 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 131 

"Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, 
An' weary winter comin' fast, 
An' cozie here, beneath the blast, 

Thou thought to dwell, 
Till, crash ! the cruel coulter pass'd 

Out thro' thy cell. 

"That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, 
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble I 
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble, 
But 10 house or hald n 
To thole 1^ the winter's sleety dribble, 
An' cranreuch i3 cauld ! 

"But, mousie, thou art no thy lane,^^ 
In proving foresight may be vain : 
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men 

Gang aft a-gley ^^, 
An' leave us nought but grief and pain 

For promised joy. 

"Still thou art blest, compared wi' me ! 
The present only toucheth thee ; 
But, och ! I backward cast my e'e 

On prospects drear ! 
An' forward, tho' I canna see, 

I guess an' fear." 

10 But — without. 

11 Hald —hiding-place. 

12 2%0/e — suffer. 

13 Cranreuch — hoar-frost. 

14 Thp lane — thyself alone. 
15.4.-5' ^ey — wrong. 



TAM O'SHANTER. 

The fourth picture in the group shows us the 
inside of a Scottish tavern. It is market-night, and 
the men have come in to indulge in a good laugh and 
song before taking their long ride home across the 
moor. Our chief interest centres in two old cronies, 
who are sitting close beside the " ingle," and having 
a jolly time together. 

Tam o'Shanter and Souter^ Johnny have been 
tried and true friends for many a year. 

" Tam loved him like a very brither ; 
They had been fou ^ for weeks thegither." 

Outside the storm rages, the rain beats against 
the windows, but they heed it not. 

"The storm without might roar and rustle, 
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle." 

Souter Johnny's stories sound more funny, the 
songs and laughter grow louder, and the ale tastes 

1 Souter — shoemaker. 
2 /"oM — tipsy. 

132 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE, 133 

sweeter and sweeter as the " wee sma' hours " draw 
nigh. 

Tarn forgets his long ride. 

"He thinks na on the lang Scots miles, 
The mosses, waters, slaps ^, and stiles. 
That lie between him and his hame, 
Where sits his sulky, sullen dame, 
Gathering her brows like gathering storm, 
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm." 

Pleasure is the order of the evening, and the 
hours fly by on golden wings. 

" Kings may be blest, but Tam is glorious 
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious. 



" Care, mad to see a man sae happy 
E'en drowns himself amang the nappy." ^ 

The picture shows that they are all having a 
rollicking good time ; but it does not tell the whole of 
Tam o'Shanter's story. He who dances must pay the 
piper, you know ; and it was so with our hero. 

3 Slaps — gsites. 

4 Nappy — ale. 



134 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE 

"For pleasures are like poppies spread, 
You seize the fiow'r, its bloom is shed ; 
Or like the snow-fall in the river, 
A moment white — then melts for ever ; 
Or like the borealis race. 
That flit ere you can point their place ; 
Or like the rainbow's lovely form 
Evanishing amid the storm." 

The time draws near, at last, when Tarn must 
start for home. The wind blows furiously, the rain 
pours in torrents, and the tlmnder rolls loud and deep. 

" That night a child might understand, 
The Deil had business on his hand." 

But Tam has drunk so much of the " nappy " that 
he fears nothing. So he mounts his gray mare, Meg ; 
and away he speeds through nmd and mire. The 
wind catches his " gude blue bonnet," and almost 
drags it from his head ; the lightnings flash across his 
pathway ; but on he goes at break-neck speed until 
Kirk ^- Alio way appears in sight. 

Now he begins to go forward more slowly and 
cautiously, lest he is taken unawares by some wander- 
ing "bogle 6." It is the hour of midnight, "that hour 

5 Kirk — church. 

6 Bogle — ghost. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 135 

of night's black arch the key-stane," just the time for 
ghosts and witches to hold their revels ; and he knows 
that this region has long been famous as one of their 
favorite resorts. 

And lo I what strange sight does he behold 
through the trees? Kirk-AUoway is all ablaze with 
light ; and what is more wonderful still, he hears the 
sound of mirth and dancing. 

At any other time, Tam would have hurried on 
as fast as he could ; for, in his sober senses, he would 
not care to encounter any mysterious band of ghosts 
at their midnight carousals ; but under the influence 
of "inspiring, bold John Barleycorn," "^ fear is to him a 
thing unknown. So he pushes Meg up to the old 
church, and looks in. 

" And, vow ! Tam saw an unco ^ sight ; 
Warlocks ^ and watches in a dance ! 



" There sat auld Nick, in shape of beast ; 
He screwed the pipes and made them skirl, ^^ 
Till roof and rafters a' did dirl." n 

7 John Barleycorn — a personification of any malt-liquor ; as beer, ale, etc. 

8 Unco — strange. 

9 Warlocks — wizards. 

10 <SfAtrZ — shriek. 

11 iMW— vibrate. 



136 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



"As Tarn looked round, amazed and curious, 
The mirth and fun grew fiist and furious. 
The piper loud and louder blew ; 
The dancers quick and quicker flew." 

They whirl, they caper about, and indulge in all 
kinds of queer antics. Faster and faster they dance ; 
and wilder and wilder grows the music. Tarn almost 
stares the eyes out of his head, so interested does he 
become. 

There is one spry little witch, who has so fasci- 
nated the poor fellow that he entirely forgets who 
and where he is. He keeps silent as long as he can, 
tin Nannie, by her charms and agility, makes him 
lose his reason altogether ; and, after one of her most 
extraordinary capers, he roars out, " Weel done, 
Nannie ! " 

" And in an instant all was dark : 
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied. 
When out the hellish legion sallied. 

" As bees buzz out wi' angry fyke ^^ 
When plundering herds assail their byke i3 ; 

12Fi/ke—tuss. 
13 Bj/ke — hive. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 137 

As eager runs the market-crowd, 
When ^ Catch the thief I ' resounds aloud ; 
So Maggie runs, the witches follow 
Wi' many a frightful screech and hollo. 

"Ah, Tarn ! ah, Tarn ! thou'U get thy fairin ! i^ 
In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! 
In vain thy Kate awaits thy coming ! 
Kate soon will be a woefu' woman ! 
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 
And win the key-stane of the brig : 
There at them thou thy tail may toss, 
A running stream they darena cross. 
But ere the key-stane she could make, 
Nae tail, indeed, had she to shake ! 
For Nannie, far before the rest, 
Hard upon noble Maggie prest, 
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle ; i^ 
But little wist she Maggie's mettle. 

Ae spring brought off her master hale, 
But left behind her ain gray tail : 
The carlin i^ claught her by the rump, 
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. 

14 Fairin — reward . 

15 ^^«e — design. 

16 Carlin — old witch. 



138 



PICTURES EROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



"Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, 
Ilki" man and mothers son, take heed 
Whene'er to drink j^ou are inclin'd, 
Or stolen joys run in your mind, 
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear, 
Remember Tam o'Shanter's mare." 



17 Ilk — every. 




THE GASTLE OF GHILLON 



139 




GEORGE GORDOX BYRON. 



THE CASTLE OF CHILLON. 

A beautiful lake comes next, whose pure waters 
are as blue as the sky which bends above them. 
Lofty, snow-covered mountains encircle it, and 
scattered along its sides are picturesque little villages. 

There are many delightful associations connected 
with lovely Lake Geneva. Upon its borders dwelt 
that noted French writer, Madame de Stael, and her 
friend, the beautiful Madame Recamier. Here, also, 
lived and wrote the two famous French skeptics, 
Voltaire and Rousseau. 

But it is Lord Byron, who has thrown a halo 
of romance around this enchanted lake, and it is of 
him we think as we gaze upon its smooth surface. 
On all sides are the scenes which he has immortalized 
in his poems. The Jura Mountains still guard the 
lake on one side ; while on the other, are the Bernese 
Alps with "their thousand years of snow." The lake 
is as clear as when Byron glided over it, and its 
murmur as gentle as when he compared it to the 
sweet sound of a sister's voice. Yonder is the town 

141 



142 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

of Clarens, "Sweet Clarens, birthplace of deep love ; " 
and there at the extremity of the lake is the Castle 
of Chillon. 

It is to this old castle, this "mass of towers upon 
a mass of rocks," to which I wish to call your attention, 
for it is the most attractive feature in all this magni- 
ficent landscape ; and the reason is because Lord 
Byron has thrown around it the magic of his genius. 

Thousands of people come here every year in 
order to visit the gloomy apartment in which the 
" Prisoner of Chillon " was confined for six long 
years. These pilgrims cross the drawbridge under 
which the water has long since dried away, and enter 
the cell that has been made so famous. They see the 
pillar to which Bonnivard was chained, examine the 
groove in the floor made by the pacing of his restless 
feet, and climb to the barred window to look down 
upon the blue waters which gladdened the eyes of 
the unhappy prisoner. 

"Lake Leman ^ lies by Chillon's walls ; 
A thousand feet in depth below 
Its massy waters meet and flow ; 
Thus much the fathom-line was sent 

1 Lake Leman — another name for Lake Geneva. 



I 

PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 143 

From Chillon's snow-white battlement, 

Which round al)oat the wave inthrals : 

A double dungeon wall and w^ave 

Have made — and like a living grave. 

Below the surface of the lake 

The dark vault lies wherein we lay : 

We heard it ripple night and day, 

Sounding o'er our heads it knocked ; 

And I have felt the winter's spray 

Wash throuo^h the bars when winds were his^h. 

And wanton in the happy sky ; 

And then the very rock hath rocked, 

And I have felt it shake, unshocked. 

Because I could have smiled to see 

The death that would have set me free." 

When Byron visited Chillon, he knew nothing of 
Bonnivard's history save his imprisonment in the 
castle ; but the account which he gives, though not 
according to fact, is so beautifully told that every- 
body prefers it to the real story of Bonnivard's life. 

The poet says that Bonnivard and his two 
brothers were thrown into prison because they 
would not forsake the religion of their Withers. 
There were six brothers in all. Three of them had 
already sealed their faith with their blood, and now 



144 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERAtlJR:^. 

the remaining three were cast into the dungeon to 
wear their lives away. 

"They chained us each to a column stone, 

And we were three — yet each alone ;. 

We could not move a single pace, 

We could not see each other's face. 

But with that pale and livid light 

That made us strangers in our sight : 

And thus together — yet apart, 

Fettered in hand, but joined in heart ; — 

'Twas still some solace, in the dearth 

Of the pure elements of earth. 

To hearken to each other's speech. 

And each turn comforter to each. 

With some new hope or legend old 

Or song heroically bold : 

But even these at length grew cold. 

Our voices took a dreary tone, 

An echo of the dungeon's stone, 

A o:ratino^ sound — not full and free 
As they of yore were wont to be : 
It might be fancy — but to me 

They never sounded like our own. 

"I was the eldest of the three. 
And to uphold and cheer the rest 
I ought to do — and did my best — 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 145 

And each did well in his degree. 
The youngest, whom my father loved, 
Because our mother's brow was given 
To him with eyes as blue as heaven, 
For him my soul was sorely moved : 
And truly might it be distressed 
To see such bird in such a nest : 
For he was beautiful as day — 

(When d;iy was beautiful to me 

As to young eagles, being free) — 
A polar day, which will not see 
A sunset till its summer's gone. 
Its sleepless summer of long light. 
The snow-clad offspring of the sun : 
And thus he was as pure and bright, 
And in his natural spirit gay, 
With tears for nought but others' ills 
And then they flowed like mountain rills, 
Unless he could assuage the woe 
Which he abhorred to view below. 

'The other was as pure of mind. 
But formed to combat with his kind : 
Strong in his frame, and of a mood 
Which 'gainst the world in war had stood, 
And perished in the foremost rank 
With joy : — but not in chains to pine : 
His spirit withered with their clank. 



146 PICTURES FROM EXGLISH LITERATURE. 

I saw it silently decline — 

And so perchance in sooth did mine ; 

But yet I forced it on to cheer 

Those relics of a home so dear. 

He was a hunter of the hills, 

Had followed there the deer and wolf : 

To him the dungeon was a gulf, 

And fettered feet the worst of ills." 

The hunter-brother was the first to feel the 
eifects of the dreary prison life. He pined for the 
sunlight and the fresh air. His free spirit, which 
would have scorned a palace had liberty been denied, 
could not exist within the narrow confines of a 
dungeon. 

" He died — and they unlocked his chain 
And scooped for him a shallow grave 
Even from the cold earth of our cave." 

Bonnivard begged that his brothers body might 
be buried outside the prison, under the blue sky, 
where the sun might shine upon his grave ; but 
the keepers only laughed. 

" And laid him there, 

The flat and turfless earth above 
The being we so much did love ; 



PICTURES rRf)M ENGLISH LITERATURE. 147 

His empty chain above it leant, 
Such murder's fitting monument." 

His youngest and favorite brother was the next 
to go. Day after day he slowly faded, but not a 
murmur came from his lips. 

"A little talk of better days, 
A little hope my own to raise. 
For I was sunk in silence — lost 
In this last loss, of all the most : 
And then the sighs he would suppress 
Of fainting nature's feebleness, 
More slowly drawn, grew less and less. 

The end came, and one dim morning as Bonni- 
vard listened to catch the sound of his brother's faint 
breathing, there was a silence. 

"I listened, but I could not hear — 
I called, for I was wild with fear ; 
I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread 
Would not be thus admonished ; 
I called, and thought I heard a sound — 
I burst my chain with one strong bound, 
And rushed to him ; I found him not, 
I only -stirred in this black spot, 
I only lived — I only drew 



148 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

The accursed breath of dungeon-dew : 

The last — the sole — the dearest link 

Between me and the eternal brink, 

Which bound me to my failing race, 

Was broken in this fatal place. 

One on the earth and one beneath — 

My brothers — both had ceased to breathe." 

After the death of his brothers, Bonnivard was 
very unhappy. His misery was so great that he lost 
all consciousness of his surroundings. Day and night 
were alike to him, and he lay upon his dungeon floor 
blind and deaf in his anguish. 

"A light broke in upon my brain, — 
It was the carol of a bird ; 
It ceased, and then it came again. 
The sweetest song ear ever heard. 
And mine was thankful till my eyes 
Ran over with the glad surprise. 
And they that moment could not see 
I was the mate of misery ; 
But then by dull degrees came back 
My senses to their wonted track ; 
I saw the dungeon wslWs and floor 
Close slowly round me as before, 
I saw the glimmer of the sun 
Creeping as it before had done, 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 149 

But through the crevice where it came 

That bird was perched, as fond and tame, 

And tamer than upon the tree ; 

A lovely bird, with azure wings. 

And song that said a thousand things, 

And seemed to say them all for me ! 

I never saw its like before, 

I ne'er shall see its likeness more : 

It seemed like me to want a mate, 

But was not half so desolate, 

And it was come to love me when 

None lived to love me so again, 

And cheering from my dungeon's brink. 

Had brought me back to feel and think. 

I know not if it late were free, 

Or broke its cage to perch on mine. 

But knowing well captivity. 

Sweet bird ! I could not wish for thine ; 

Or if it were, in winged guise 

A visitant from Paradise ; 

For — Heaven forsjive that thoutrht ! the while 

Which made me both to weep and smile ; 

I sometimes deemed that it might be 

My brother's soul come down to me ; 

But then at last away it flew, 

And then 'twas mortal — well I knew. 

For he would never thus have flown 

And left me twice so doubly lone." 



150 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

His keepers now grew more kind. The broken 
chain remained with its links unfastened, and Bonni- 
vard was allowed the freedom of his cell. One day he 
made a footing in the wall that he might climb to the 
barred window, and look out once more upon his 
beloved mountains. 

"I saw them — and they were the same. 
They were not changed like me in frame ; 
I saw their thousand years of snow 
On high — their wide long lake below, 
And the blue Rhone in fullest flow." 

But this beautiful landscape made him sad. 
When he saw the fishes swimming so joyously by 
the castle wall, and the eagle soaring aloft through 
the free air, tears filled his eyes. The contrast was 
too great ; and when he descended to his cell again, 
its darkness seemed to close over him like that of a 
new-dug grave. 

Months and years of this death-in-life passed 
away ; but at last the prison door was opened and 
Bonnivard, a bent, gray-haired man, went forth to 
liberty. 

" At last men came to set me free , 
I asked not why, and recked not where, 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 151 

It was at length the same to me 
Fettered or fetterless to be, 
I learned to love despair. 
And thus when they appeared at last, 
And all my bonds aside were cast, 
These heavy walls to me had grown 
A hermitage — and all my own ! 
And half I felt as they were come 
To tear me from a second home ; 
With spiders I had friendship made, 
And watched them in their sullen trade. 
Had seen the mice by moonlight play. 
And why should I feel less than they? 
We were all inmates of one place, 
And I, the monarch of each race. 
Had power to kill — yet, strange to tell ! 
In quiet we had learned to dwell — 
My very chains and I grew friends. 
So much a long communion tends 
To make us what we are : — even I 
Eegained my freedom with a sigh ! " 



EPPIE, 



153 




GEOKGE EL-IOT. 



EPPIE. 

The next picture represents the interior of a small 
stone cottage, situated among the nutty hedgerows 
of a pretty English village. It is New Year's Eve. 
Through the windows we can see that the ground is 
covered with freshly fallen snow, but the stars which 
are struggling through the clouds show that the storm 
has ceased. The door of the cottage is wide open, 
and the bright fire burning upon the hearth lights up 
every corner of the room — the bed, the loom, the 
three chairs and the table. It is evidently a weaver's 
cottage, and inhabited by a solitary man, for there are 
no marks of a woman's presence in the arrangement 
of the meagre furniture. 

There is something bright shining on an old coat 
which has been spread out before the warm fire to 
dry ; and as we look more closely, we see that this 
spot of brightness is made by the golden curls of a 
little girl, who is lying asleep in front of the blazing 
logs. She must have walked in through the open 
door, for an old gray shawl is wrapped around her 
small body, and a queer little bonnet is dangling at 

155 



156 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

her back, while her tiny boots bear the marks of 
the snow. 

It is a charming New Year's picture, this golden- 
haired child asleep in the firelight. Her dingy clothes 
and bare surroundings only serve as a setting to bring 
out more clearly her sweet loveliness. 

There is a beautiful story connected with this 
little girl. 

Fifteen years before, there had come to live in 
Raveloe a young man from the northern part of 
England. His name was Silas Marner, and there 
was "nothing peculiar about his appearance save his 
large, near-sighted brown eyes, which protruded in a 
startling manner from his pale face. He was a linen- 
weaver by trade, and he soon settled down to his life 
in the cottage by the deserted stone-pits. 

And a singular life it was ! He made no friends 
and desired none ; he never went to church ; he never 
drank a glass at the " Rainbow," nor joined in the good- 
natured gossip of the men who liked to congregate 
there. Week after week, and month after month, 
he sat at his loom steadily weaving, knowing nothing 
of the world outside, and having no thought save to 
reach the end of his web. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 157 

The people of the village were very curious 
about this queer, silent man, and many foolish stories 
were told about his past life. Silas Marner had a 
history, it is true, but there was nothing strange or 
mysterious in it. It was the old story of a loving 
heart betrayed. He had suffered great injustice 
through one whom he deemed his best friend ; and 
the woman who had promised to be his wife proved 
unfaithful. 

When he came to Raveloe, his heart was almost 
broken with grief, and he shunned all companionship. 
But that was not all. His nature, once so simple and 
trusting, had now become hard and bitter, and he 
no longer believed in God's goodness and man's 
integrity. 

But strange are the workings of the human 
heart ! It must have something to care for ; and 
so it was that Silas's heart, having nothing else to 
love, fastened itself upon the golden coins which he 
received for his work. As they grew in number, so 
his love gained strength, until at last it became a 
supreme delight for him to count the shining 
guineas. 

As time went on and his hoard increased, he 



158 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

concealed it in a hiding-place, made by removing two 
loose bricks in the floor under his loom. His only 
object in life Avas to see his pile of guineas and 
crowns s^row bio^e^er. How he loved them I He 
would take them out of the bag, and spread them on 
the table before him ; he would make them up into 
little heaps and fondle them as if they could feel his 
loving touch. All day as he sat at his loom, his 
thoughts were with them ; and when he walked 
through the quiet lanes to carry home his work, 
his mind w^ould turn to the happy evening-time when 
he should sit before the bright fire, and caress his 
golden children. 

This was Silas Marner's life for fifteen years after 
he came to Raveloe, but a change was approaching 
which would again leave his heart bruised and 
bleeding. 

One evening, on returning from an errand 
to the village, he went, as usual, to look at his 
precious treasure ; but on removing the bricks, he 
found that the hiding-place was empty. He could 
not believe the evidence of his own eyes. With 
trembling hands, he felt all over the place where he 
had put his gold ; then, holding a candle in the hole, 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 159 

he looked carefully around, his heart all the while 
beating wildly. At last, the dreadful truth burst 
upon him — some one had entered the cottage in his 
absence, and had stolen his money, every shining 
guinea. 

Beside himself with grief, poor Silas's first 
thought was to try to catch the thief who had taken 
his gold, so he rushed out into the night to seek his 
neighbors, and tell them of his loss. They came 
promptly to his aid, and search was made far and 
near. But alas I it was all in vain, and Silas, for the 
second time, crushed and heart-broken, returned to 
his desolate home. 

Now followed a dreary time for the poor weaver. 
The one joy of his life had been taken away. His 
days were no longer brightened by thoughts of the 
pleasant evening; and when at night, he sat by his 
deserted fireside, he could only moan with anguish as 
memory recalled his beautiful guineas. Often he 
would open his door, and look out from time to time, 
hoping, in some dim way, that his gold might be 
coming back to him. 

One night — it was New Year's Eve — he had 
opened wide his door, as was his custom, and had 



160 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

stepped outside. The silence and the solitude wrung 
his heart, and he sent out into the darkness a 
voiceless cry for help. When he went in, "turning 
toward the hearth, where the two logs had fallen 
apart, and sent forth only a red uncertain glimmer, 
he seated himself in his fireside chair, and was 
stooping to push his logs together, when, to his 
blurred vision, it seem to him as if there were gold 
on the floor in front of his hearth. Gold ! — his own 
gold — brought back to him as mysteriously as it had 
been taken away. He felt his heart throb violently, 
and, for a few moments, he was unable to stretch out 
his hand and grasp the restored treasure. The heap 
of iJ^old seemed to s^low and o^et laro^er beneath his 
asfitated o^aze. 

"He leaned forward at last, and stretched forth 
his hand ; but instead of the hard coin, his fingers 
encounted soft, warm curls. In utter amazement, 
Silas fell on his knees and bent his head low, to 
examine the marvel : it was a sleeping child — a 
round, fair thing, with soft, yellow rings all over its 
head. Could this be his little sister come back to 
him in a dream — his little sister whom he had 
carried about in his arms for a year before she died, 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 161 

when he was a small boy without shoes or stockings? 
That was the first thouglit that darted across Silas's 
blank wonderment. Was it a dream? He rose to 
his feet again, pushed his logs together, and throwing 
on some dried leaves and sticks, raised a tlame ; but 
the vision remained. The flame only lit up more 
distinctly the little round form of the child and its 
shabby clothing. It was very much like his little sister. 

"He had a dreamy feelmg that this child was 
somehow a messao:e come to him from that far-off* life ; 
it stirred fibres that had never been moved in Raveloe 
— quiverings of tenderness — old impressions of awe 
at the presentiment of some Power presiding over 
his life. 

" But there was a cry on the hearth ; the child 
had awakened, and Marner stooped to lift it on his 
knee. It clung round his neck, and burst into loud 
cries of ^ Mammy, mammy ! ' Silas pressed it to him, 
and almost unconsciously uttered sounds of soothing 
tenderness, while he bethought himself that some of 
his porridge, which had got cool by the dying fire, 
would do to feed the child with if it were only 
warmed up a little. 

" He had plenty to do through the next hour. 



/ 



162 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE 

The porridge, sweetened with some dry brown sugar 
which he had refrained from using for himself, stopped 
the cries of the little one, and made her lift her blue 
eyes with a wide quiet gaze at Silas, as he put the 
spoon into her mouth. 

" Presently," she slipped from his knee and began 
to toddle about, but with a pretty stagger that made 
Silas jump up and follow her lest she should fall 
against anything that would hurt her. But she only 
fell in a sitting posture on the ground and began 
to pull at her boots, looking up at him with a crying 
face, as if the boots hurt her. He took her on his 
knee again, but it was some time before it occurred 
to Silas's dull bachelor mind that the wet boots were 
the grievance, pressing on her warm ankles. He 
got them off with difficulty, and baby was at once 
happily occupied with the primary mystery of her 
own toes, inviting Silas, with much chuckling, to 
consider the mystery too. 

"But the wet boots had at last sus^ofested to Silas 
that the child had been walking on the snow ; and 
under the prompting of this new idea, he raised the 
child in his arms and went to the door. As soon as 
he had opened it, there was the cry of 'mammy' 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 163 

again, which Silas had not heard since the child's 
first hungry cry. 

"Bending forward, he could just see the marks 
made by ^the little feet on the virgin snow, and he 
followed their track to the furze-bushes. 'Mammy!' 
the little one cried again and again, stretching itself 
forward so as to almost escape from Silas's arms, 
before he himself was aware that there was something 
more than the bush before him — that there was a 
human body, with the head sunk low in the furze and 
half-covered with the shaken snow." 

This was the little child's mother, a poor 
creature, who had been overtaken by the storm, 
and had fallen unconscious within a few feet of Silas 
Marner's cottage. The little one had slipped from 
her arms, and guided by the bright light which shone 
through the open door, had made her way towards the 
warm fire, where she had soon fallen asleep, to awake 
to new love and care ; while the mother lying outside 
in the snow, passed into that long sleep, from which 
she would awake in the land where there is no more 
cold or weariness. 

To the surprise of every one, Silas decided to 
keep the child. 



164 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

"The mother's dead, and I reckon it's got no 
father," he said. "It's a lone thing, and I'm a lone 
thing. My money's gone, I don't know where, and 
this is come from I don't know where." 

The baby clung to him ; and as there was nobody 
to dispute his claim, it was decided that he should 
keep her. The villagers thought it odd that he 
should desire to be burdened with the wants of a 
little girl. They did not understand what the coming 
of this sweet child was to the lonely man. It seemed 
to him a miracle ; as if the God whom he had 
worshipped in his early manhood had suddenly 
remembered him, and had sent him something to 
fill his empty heart. 

Unlike his gold which had separated him from 
his neighbors, and condemned him to selfish solitude, 
little Eppie, as he called her, became a living link 
between him and the men and women he had fomerly 
shunned. 

" The ofold had asked that he should sit weavino^ 
longer and longer, deafened and blinded more and 
more to all things except the monotony of his loom 
and the repetition of his web ; but Eppie called him 
away from his weaving, and made him think all its 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 165 

pauses a holiday, re-awakening his senses with her 
fresh life. 

" When the sunshine grew strong and lasting, so 
that the buttercups were thick in the meadows, Silas 
might be seen in the sunny mid-day, or in the late 
afternoon,' strolling out with uncovered head to carry 
Eppie beyond the Stone-pits to where the flowers 
grew, till they reached some favorite bank where he 
could sit down, while Eppie toddled to pluck the 
flowers, and make remarks to the winged things 
that murmured happily about the bright petals, 
calling 'Dad-dad's' attention continually by bringing 
him the flowers. 

"Sitting on the banks in this way, Silas began 
to look for the once familiar herbs again ; but as the 
leaves, with their unchanged outline, lay on his palm, 
there was a sense of crowding remembrances from 
which he turned away timidly, taking refuge in 
Eppie's little world, that lay lightly on his enfeebled 
spirit. 

"As the child's mind was o^rowino^ into knowledo^e, 
his mind was growing into memory : as her life 
unfolded, his soul was unfolding too, and trembling 
gradually into full consciousness. 



166 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

"By the time Eppie was three years old, she 
developed a fine capacity for mischief, and for 
devising ingenious ways of being troublesome, which 
found much exercise, not only for Silas's patience, but 
for his watchfulness and penetration." So one day 
when she had run away, and caused him a great deal 
of anxiety, he resolved to take the advice of a good 
neighbor of his, and punish her a little, just enough 
"to make her remember." 

" The idea that she mio^ht come to harm orave him 
unusaal resolution, and he determined to try the 
coal-hole, a small closet near the hearth." 

"'Naughty, naughty Eppie,' he began, holding 
her on his knee, and pointing to her muddy feet and 
clothes, 'naughty to run away. Eppie must go into 
the coal-hole for being naughty. Daddy must put 
her in the coal-hole.' 

"He half expected that this would be shock 
enough, and that Eppie would begin to cry. But 
instead of that, she began to shake herself on his 
knee, as if the proposition opened a pleasing novelty. 
Seeing that he must proceed to extremities, he put 
her into the coal-hole, and held the door closed, with 
a tremblino^ sense that he was usins^ a stronsj measure. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 167 

For a moment there was silence, but then came a 
little cry, ^Opy, opy ! ' and Silas let her out again, 
saying, ^Now Eppie 'uU never be naughty again, else 
she must go in the coal-hole — a black, naughty 
place.' 

'^The weaving must stand still a long while this 
morning, for now Eppie must be washed, and have 
clean clothes on ; but it was to be hoped that this 
punishment would have a lasting effect, and save 
time in future — though, perhaps, it would have been 
better if Eppie had cried more. 

"In half an hour she was clean again, and 
Silas turned his back for a moment, with the pleasant 
reflection that Eppie would be good for the rest of 
the morning. He turned around again, and was 
going to place her in her little chair near the loom, 
when she peeped out at him with black face and 
hands again, and said, 'Eppie in de toal-hole.' 

"This total failure of the coal-hole discipline 
shook Silas's belief in the efficacy of punishment. 
^ She'd take it all for fun,' he used to sa}^ ' if I didn't 
hurt her, and that I can't do. If she makes me a bit 
of trouble, I can bear it. And she's got no tricks but 
what she'll grow out of.' 



168 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERA.TURE. 

" So Eppie was reared without punishment, the 
burden of her misdeeds being borne by father Silas. 
The stone hut was made a soft nest for her, lined 
with downy patience ; and also in the world that 
lay beyond the stone hut she knew nothing of frowns 
and denials. 

"In old days there were angels who came and 
took men by the hand and led them away from the 
city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels 
now. But yet men are led away from threatening 
destruction : a hand is put into theirs which leads 
them forth gently toward a calm and bright land, 
so that they look no more backward ; and the hand 
may be a little child's." 

"It was a bright autumn Sunday, sixteen j-ears 
after Silas Marner had found his new treasure on 
the hearth. The bells of the old Raveloe church were 
ringing the cheerful peal which told that the morning 
service was ended, and out of the arched doorway, 
came slowly the parishioners. 

" It is impossible to mistake Silas Marner. His 
large brown eyes seem to have gathered a longer 
vision, as is the way with eyes that have been short- 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 169 

sighted in early life ; but in everything else one sees 
signs of a frame much enfeebled by the lapse of 
the sixteen years. The weaver's bent shoulders and 
white hair give him almost the look of advanced age, 
though he is not more than five and fifty. 

"There is the freshest blossom of youth close by 
his side — a blonde dimpled girl of eighteen, who has 
vainly tried to chastise her curly auburn hair into 
smoothness under her brown bonnet : the hair ripples 
as obstinately as a brooklet under the March breeze, 
and the little ringlets burst away from the restraining 
comb behind, and show themselves below the bonnet- 
crown. Eppie cannot help being rather vexed about 
her hair, for there is no other girl in Raveloe who has 
hair at all like it, and she thinks hair ought to be 
smooth. She doesn't like to be blameworthy even 
in small things ; you see how neatly her prayer-book 
is folded in her spotted hankerchief. 

"That good-looking young fellow, in a new 
fustian suit, who walks behind her, is not quite 
sure upon the question of hair in the abstract, when 
Eppie puts it to him, and thinks that perhaps straight 
hair is the best in general, but he doesn't want 
Eppie's hair to be difierent. She surely guesses 



170 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

that there is some one behind her who is thinking 
about her very particularly, and mustering courage 
to come to her side as soon as they are out in the 
lane, else why should she look rather shy, and talS 
care not to turn her head away from her father Silas, 
to whom she keeps murmuring little sentences as to 
who was at church, and who w^as not at church, and 
how pi-etty the red mountain-ash is over the Rectory 
wall." 

On Sunday afternoons, it was the custom for 
Silas and Eppie to take a walk in the sunshine ; 
and so, after they had eaten their dinner, and Eppie 
had made the house tid}^ they went out-of-doors, and 
sat down on the bank near the Stone-pits. 

"^Father,' said Eppie, very gently, after they 
had been sitting in silence a little while, 'if I was 
to be married, ought I to be married with my 
mother's ring?' 

" Silas gave* an almost imperceptible start, and 
then said, in a subdued tone, 'Why, Eppie, have 
you been a-thinking on it ? ' 

"'Only this last week,' said Eppie ingenuously, 
'since Aaron talked to me about it.' 

"'And what did he say?' said Silas, still in the 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 171 

same subdued way, as if he were anxious lest he 
should fall into the slightest tone that was not for 
Eppie's good. 

- " ' He said he should like to be married, because 
he was a going on four-and-twenty, and had got a 
deal of gardening work this autumn.' 

"'And who is it as he's wanting to marry?' 
said Silas with rather a sad smile. 

"'Why, me, to be sure, daddy,' said Eppie, 
with dimpling laughter, kissing her father's cheek ; 
' as if he'd want to marry anybody else ! ' 

"'And you mean to have him, do you?' said 
Silas. 

"'Yes, sometime,' said Eppie, 'I don't know 
when. Everybody's married sometime, Aaron says. 
But I told him that wasn't true ; for, I said, look 
at father, he's never been married.' 

"'No, child,' said Silas, 'your father was a lone 
man till you was sent to him.' 

"'But you'll never be lone again, father,' said 
Eppie tenderly. 'That was what Aaron said — "I 
could never think o' taking you away from Master 
Marner, Eppie." And I said, " It 'ud be no use if you 
did, Aaron." And he wants us all to live tos^ether, so 



172 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

as you needn't work a bit, father, only what's for 
your own pleasure ; and he'd be as good as a son 
to you — that w^as what he said.' 

"'And should you like that, Eppie?' said Silas, 
looking at her. 

"'I shouldn't mind it, father,' said Eppie, quite 
simply. ' And I should like things to be so you 
needn't work much. But if it wasn't for that, I'd 
sooner things didn't change. I'm very happy. I 
like Aaron to be fond of me, and come and see us 
often, and behave pretty to you — he always does 
behave pretty to you, doesn't he, father?' 

"'Yes, child, nobody could behave better,' said 
Silas emphatically. 'He's his mothers lad.' 

"'But I don't want any change,' said Eppie, 'I 
should like to go on a long, long while, just as we 
are. Only Aaron does want a change ; and he made 
me cry a bit — only a bit — because he said I didn't 
care for him, forif I cared for him I should want us 
to be married, as he did.' 

"'My blessed child,' said Silas, 'you're young 
to be married. We'll ask Aaron's mother what she 
thinks; if there's a rio^ht thins^ to do, she'll come at 
it. But there's this to be thought on, Eppie, things 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 173 

will change, whether we like it or no. I shall get 
older and helplesser, and be a burden to you, belike, 
if I don't go away from you altogether. Not as I 
mean that you'd think me a burden — I know you 
wouldn't — but it 'ud be hard upon you; and when 
I look for'ard to that, I like to think as you'd have 
somebody else besides me — somebody young and 
strong, as'U outlast your own life, and take care on 
you to the end.' Silas paused, and resting his 
wrists on his knees, lifted his hands up and down 
meditatively as he looked on the ground. 

"^Then, would you like me to be married, 
father?' said Eppie, with a little trembling in her 
voice. 

"^ril not be the man to say no, Eppie,' said 
Silas, emphatically ; ^ but we'll ask your godmother. 
She'll wish the right thing by you and her son, too.' 

"'There they come, then,' said Eppie. 'Let 
us go and meet them.'" 

" There was one time of the year which was held 
in Eaveloe to be especially suitable for a -wedding. 
It was when the great lilacs and laburnums in the 
old-fashioned gardens showed their golden and purple 



174 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE 

wealth above the lichen-tinted walls, and when there 
were calves still young enough to want bucketfuls of 
fragrant milk. People were not so busy then as they 
must become when the full cheese-making and the 
mowing had set in ; and besides it was a time when 
a light bridal dress could be worn with comfort and 
seen to advantage. 

"Happily the sunshine fell more warmly than 
usual on the lilac tufts the morning that Eppie was 
married, for her dress was a very light one. She 
had often thought, though with a feeling of renuncia- 
tion, that the perfection of a wedding-dress would be 
a white cotton, with the tiniest pink sprig at wide 
intervals ; so when Mrs. Godfrey Cass begged to 
provide one, and asked Eppie to choose what it 
should be, previous meditation had enabled her to 
give a decided answer at once. 

"Seen at a little distance as she walked across 
the church-yard and down the village, she seemed to 
be attired in pure white, and her hair looked like 
the dash of gold on a lily. One hand was on her 
husband's arm, and with the other she clasped the 
hand of her father Silas. 

"'You won't be giving me away, father,' she had 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 175 

said before they went to church ; ' you'll only be 
taking Aaron to be a son to you.'" 

Aaron's father and mother walked behind, " and 
there ended the little bridal procession." 

After the ceremony was over, they all returned 
to the Stone-pits, for Silas and Eppie had decided 
that they would rather stay there than go to any 
new home. "The garden was fenced with stones 
on two sides, but in front there was an open fence, 
through which the flowers shone with answering 
gladness, as the happy party came within sight of 
them." 

"'Oh, father,' said Eppie, 'what a pretty home 
ours is ! I think nobody could be happier than 
we are.'" 



LITTLE ELLIE, 



177 




ELIZABETH BAKRETT BROWNING. 



LITTLE ELLIE. 

"Little Ellie sits alone 
'Mid the beeches of a meadow, 

By a stream-side on the grass ; 

And the trees are showering down 
•Doubles of their leaves in shadow, 

On her shining hair and face. 

" She has thrown her bonnet by : 
And her feet she has been dipping 
In the shallow water's flow — 
Now she holds them nakedly 
In her hands, all sleek and dripping, 
While she rocketh to and fro." 

The little maiden is lost in a day-dream, and her 
happy smile tells that she is planning the sweetest 
pleasures for her future. Yondel* is a swan's nest 
that she has discovered, and her smile grows wider 
as she thinks of the one to whom she will show that 
precious nest among the reeds. 

"Little Ellie in her smile 
Chooseth . . . ' I will have a lover, 



Kiding on a steed of steeds ! 



179 



180 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

He shall love me without guile ; 
And to him I will discover — 

That swan's nest among the reeds. 

" ' And the steed shall be red-roan 
And the lover shall be noble, 

With an eye that takes the breath. 

And the lute he plays upon, 
Shall strike ladies into trouble. 

As his sword strikes men to death. 

"^ And the steed it shall be shod 
All in silver, housed with azure, 
And its mane shall swim the wind : 
And the hoofs along the sod 
Shall flash onward and keep measure, 
Till the shepherds look behind. 

" ' But my lover will not prize 
All the glory that he rides in 
When he gazes in my face, 
He will say, ^O Love, thine eyes 
Build the shrine my soul abides in ; 
And I kneel here for thy grace.'" 

But little Ellie resolves that she will not be 
won too lightly. Although her heart may say "yes" 
to her lover's tender pleading, she will not yield it 
to his keeping until his courage and constancy have 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 181 

been proved. Then her smile becomes proud and 
triumphant as she thinks : '' I will send him out into 
the great world, there to battle for the right, to make 
straight the crooked places, and to defeat the plans 
of wicked men ; and then when he returns to lay his 
laurels at my feet, I will crown him with my love.'' 

" Three times shall a young foot-page 
Swim the stream and climb the mountain 
And kneel down beside my feet — 
'Lo, my master sends this gage,^ 
Lady, for thy pity's counting 1 
What wilt thou exchange for it?' 

"And the first time, I will send 
A white rosebud for a guerdon, ^ — 

And the second time, a glove ; 

But the third tune I may bend 
From my pride, and answer — ^Pnrdon, 

If he comes to take my love.' 

"Then the young, foot-page will run— =^ 
Then my lover will ride faster, 
Till he kneeleth at my knee : 
* I am a duke's eldest son ! 
Thousand serfs do call me master, — 
But, O Love, I love but ilieer 

1 Gage — a pledge. 

2 Guerdon — a reward. 



182 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

" He will kiss me on the mouth 
Then, and lead me as a lover 
Through the crowds that praise his deeds : 
And, when soul-tied by one troth, 
Unto him I will discover 

That swan's nest among the reeds." 

Dear little Ellie ! After she has built her 
charming air-castle, she rises gaily, with the smile 
yet upon her lips, "ties the bonnet, dons the shoe," 
and goes homeward. But she must not omit her 
daily look at the beloved swan's nest. So pushing 
her way through the woods along the winding river, 
she joyfully hastens to her treasure. She parts the 
boughs and looks in, hoping to see that more eggs 
are with the two. 

" She stoops — and stops ! 
Lo ! the wild swan had deserted — 
And a rat had gnawed the reeds. 

"Ellie went home sad and slow. 
If she found the lover ever. 

With his red-roan steed of steeds, 
Sooth I know not ! but I know 
She could never show him — never 
That swan's nest among the reeds ! 



PIPPA. 



183 




ROBERT BROWlSriNG. 



PIPPA. 

The last picture I am going to show you is also the 
portrait of a little girl. Her name is Pippa, and she 
lives in the beautiful land of Italy. It is to the 
sunbeams of that delightful clime that she owes the 
peach-like bloom of her cheeks, the glow in her deep 
eyes, and the glitter of her rich brown hair. 

She looks very happy in the picture ; her pretty 
face is all dimpled with smiles. Her hat has fallen on 
her shoulders, and her apron is filled with wild 
flowers which she has gathered in her rambles. The 
large dark eyes look as if they had a story to tell ; 
and if they could speak, I know that this is what 
they would say : — 

''I am only Pippa, singing Pippa, a poor little 
silk-winding girl of Asolo.i But I am very liappy 
to-day, for this is my holiday, the only one I have 
during the whole year. All through the dreary 
weeks and months, I am hard at work in the mills ; 
and then, just as I begin to feel that I shall die if I 



1 Asolo — a town in Northern Italy. 

185 



186 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

cannot get out into the warm sunshine, and wander 
through the green fields, God sends me this one long 
beautiful day, in which I can do exactly as I please. 

^Oh, Day, if I squander a wavelet of thee, 
A mite of my twelve hours' treasure. 
The least of thy gazes or glances. 
One of thy choices, or one of thy chances, — 
My Day, if I squander such labor or leisure. 
Then shame fall on Asolo, mischief on me ! 

'Thy long, blue, solemn hours serenely flowing, 
All shall be mine ! But thou must treat me not 
As the prosperous are treated, those who live 
At hand here, and enjoy the higher lot. 
In readiness to take what thou wilt give, 
And free to let alone what thou refusest ; 
For, Day, my holiday, if thou ill-usest 
Me, who am only Pippa — old-year's sorrow. 
Cast off last niofht, will come as^ain tomorrow — 
Whereas, if thou prove gentle, I shall borrow 
SuflScient strength of thee for new-year's sorrow. 
All other men and women that this earth 
Belongs to, who all days alike possess. 
Make general plenty cure particular dearth, 
Get more joy, one way, if another, less : 
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven 



PICTURES J^ROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 187 

What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven; 
Sole light that helps me through the year, thy sun's ! 

'Try, now ! Take Asolo's Four Happiest Ones 
And let thy morning rain on that superb 
Great haughty Ottima ; can rain disturb 
Her Sebald's homage ? All the while thy rain 
Beats fiercest on her shrub-house window-pane, 
He will but press the closer, breathe more warm 
Against her cheek ; how should she mind the storm ? 
And, morning past, if mid-day shed a gloom 
O'er Jules and Phene, — what care bride and groom 
Save for their dear selves ? 'Tis their marriage-day ; 
And while they leave church, and go home their way 
Hand clasping hand, — within each breast would be 
Sunbeams and pleasant weather spite of thee ! 

* Then, for another trial, obscure thy eve 
With mist, — will Luigi and his mother grieve — 
The Lady and her child, unmatched, forsooth, 
She in her age, as Luigi in his youth, 
For true content? The cheerful town, warm, close, 
And safe, the sooner that thou art morose 
Receives them ! And yet once again, outbreak 
In storm at night on Monsignor, they make 
Such stir about, — whom they expect from Rome 
To visit Asolo, his brother's home, 
And say here masses proper to release 



188 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

A soul from pain, — what storm dares hurt his peace ? 
Calm would he pray, with his ow^n thoughts to ward 
Thy thunder off, nor want the angels' guard ! 

'But Pippa — just one such mischance would spoil 
Her day that lightens the next twelvemonth's toil 
At wearisome silk-winding, coil on coil 1' 

" Now what shall I do to celebrate my holiday ? 
To-morrow, I must be Pippa, who winds silk the 
whole year round, just to earn her bread and milk ; 
but to-day, I can indulge my fancy to the utmost. 

" Oh ! I know. I will make believe that I am, 
in tarn, the four happiest people in Asolo ; I will 
imagine that I am called by their names, and can 
enjoy their pleasures. 

"First, I will be haughty Ottima. ' The gardens, 
the great stone house above, and the other house for 
shrubs, all glass in front,' shall be mine. My lover, 
Sebald, shall come and whisper in my ear that I am 
dearer to him than all the world beside. How sweet 
it will be to know that there is one heart which holds 
me first and best ! 

" But the people of the town say that theirs is a 
guilty love. They point at Ottima as she passes by, 
and tell strans^e tales of her and old Luca, her fond 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 189 

and doting husband. So that is not the love I want. 
There is a better kind, I know. This foolish love was 
only the first I happened to think of. 

"There is Phene, I will pretend that I am she. 
I saw her when she arrived last night, and I caught 
one glimpse of her snow-pure face and black, bright 
tresses. Ah ! Jules, you must be careful of your 
delicate bride, lest she wither like a flower in your 
grasp. How happy they will be in their new-found 
bliss ! 

"And yet, is this the kind of love I would 
choose? Should I not be afraid of losing it after 
once it was mine? Men sometimes grow cold to their 
wives, and even hate them. I will choose a love that 
knows no change ; I will be Luigi. Every evening I 
see him and his mother direct their steps toward our 
ruined turret, where they talk and talk, ^calmer than 
lovers, yet more kind than friends.' I have marked 
the mother-love in her eyes when she looks upon her 
boy. Yes, I will be Luigi. Only a parent's love 
can last through our whole life, and keep us safe 
from harm. O that I knew my mother's or my 
father's face ! 

"But if I wish to be preserved from all harm, 



190 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

.whose love can I trust so well as God's? Would it 
not be better to be Monsignor, who will come to 
Asolo to-night to bless the home of his dead brother? 
Surely God's blessing will fall upon him in his pious 
work. Then, for this night, I will be that holy and 
beloved priest. Let me see. What was that New- 
year's hymn that I was singing yesterday? — 

'All service ranks the same with God — 
With God, whose puppets, best and worst, 
Are we ; there is no last nor first.' 

" ^ There is no first nor last ! ' How silly I have 
been to pretend that I will be these great people so 
far out of my reach. I will make believe no more ; I 
will be humble Pippa. Doubtless, God cares for me 
as well as for them. So I will go forth and enjoy my 
day ; and if I pass by these four happy ones, I will 
feel no envy of them in my heart. The sun shines ; 
what can I ask for more?" 

This is what Pippa tells us in the picture. I 
like to look at her, for I remember her unconscious 
influence over the people whom she deems the four 
happiest ones in Asolo. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 191 

That same day, which was so bright and beautiful 
to the young girl, was a day of fate to them. 

In the early morning, in the great house on the 
hill, a tragedy was being enacted. ^ The beams of the 
sun penetrating the closed lattice, fell across the 
body of the murdered Luca ; while yonder in the 
shrub-house, the two lovers, Ottima and Sebald, were 
gloating over their unnatural crime. Poor, doting 
husband ! He would never trouble them more , In 
the midst of their sinful rejoicings, the sweet voice of 
Pippa rang out upon the air. 

"The year's at the spring, 
And day's at the morn ; 
Morning's at seven ; 
The hill-side's dew-pearled ; 
The lai'k's on the wing ; 
The snail's on the thorn ; 
God's in his heaven — 
All's ri^ht with the world ! " 

" God's in his heaven ! " They had not thought 
of that. Now, their wicked deed confronts them in 
all its naked ugliness. The scales drop from their 
eyes ;_ and, for the first time, they see the depths of 

2 Enacted — performed. 



192 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

degradation into which they have fallen. Horror fills 
their hearts. 

Sebald starts away from his once grand and 
beautiful Ottima with fear and disgust ; and as, 
through the still morning air, they hear the sound of 
God's accusing voice, they, yield up to Him their 
miserable lives in partial atonement for what they 
have done. 



At noontime of the same day, Jules, the sculptor, 
is taking home his bride. As he leads her over the 
threshold into the pretty room, he casts upon her 
pale, inquiring looks. Too late he finds that he has 
been deceived. Instead of a noble, high-born lady, 
he has married a poor, ignorant girl, an artist's 
model, one that he can hire by the hour. 

She confesses to him what his companions have 
done, and how she has been compelled to be the 
victim of their so-called joke. How beautiful she is, 
and how 3^oung ! Surely that is love-light in those 
frightened eyes. But to be so duped by those 
pretended friends. Xo, he cannot endure it; he 
must send her away. Suddenly a fragment of song 
comes floating on the air. 



PICTURES EROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 193 

"Is she wronged? To the rescue of her honor, 
My heart ! 
Is she poor ? What costs it to be styled a donor ? " 

And little Pippa passes beneath the window. 

Jules looks again at the shrinking Phene. She 
must be innocent and good, he thinks. What if she 
be poor and low-born? That sweet face cannot fail 
to be the index of a pure heart ; no evil can hide 
behind that broad white brow. He loves her, he 
knows; and, as he clasps his bride in his arms, he 
feels that love atones for all. 



Inside the turret, in the early evening, stand 
Luigi and his mother. He is only a boy, fifteen a 
while ago ; but already he believes that his country 
calls him to deliver her from the tyrant. What matter 
if he commit a crime, if he but save his country? 
What matter if he die, if she be free? In vain, his 
mother tries to prove to him that his zeal arises from 
a mistaken sense of duty. With the confidence of 
youth, he persists in his design. As a last resource, 
she tempts him by recalling sweet memories of the 
maiden he loves. 



194 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

For the first tirae, Luigi's resolution wavers. He 
thinks : "Is it worth while to sacrifice life and all that 
life holds dear on the cold altar of Duty ? " 

As the mother pleads, a voice is heard singing : — 

"A king lived long ago, 
In the morning of the world, 
When earth was nigher heaven than now : 
And the king's locks curled 
Disparting o'er a forehead full 
As the milk-white space 'twixt horn and horn 
Of some sacrificial bull 
Only calm as a babe new-born : 
For he was got to a sleepy mood, 
So safe from all decrepitude. 
From age with its bane, so sure gone by, 
(The gods so loved him while he dreamed,) 
That, having lived thus long, there seemed 
No need the king should ever die. 

"Among the rocks his city was : 
Before his palace, in the sun. 
He sate to see his people pass. 
And judge them every one 
From its threshold of smooth stone. 
They haled ^ him many a valley-thief, 
Caught in the sheep-pens — robber-chief, 

3 Haled — brought by force. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 195 

. Swarthy and shameless — beggar-cheat — 
Spy-prowler — or rough pirate found 
On the sea-sand left aground — 
And these, all and every one, 
The king judged, sitting in the sun. 

"His councillors, on left and right. 
Looked anxious up, — but no surprise 
Disturbed the king's old smiling eyes, 
Where the very blue had turned to white. 
'Tis said, a Python scared one day 
The breathless city, till he came. 
With forky tongue and eyes on flame, 
Where the old king sate to judge alway ; 
But when he saw the sweepy hair, 
Girt with a crown of berries rare 
Which the God will hardly give to wear 
To the maiden who singeth, daficing bare 
In the altar-smoke by the pine-torch lights, 
At his wondrous forest rites, — 
Beholding this, he did not dare. 
Approach that threshold in the sun, 
Assault the old king smiling there. 
Such grace had kings when the world begun ! '* 

And pretty Pippa passes by. 

"And such grace have they, now that the world 
ends ! (exclaims Luigi) 



196 PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

The Python at the city, on the throne, 
And brave men, God would crown for slaying him, 
Lurk in by-corners lest they fall his prey. 
Are crowns yet to be won in this late time, 
Which weakness makes me hesitate to reach ? 
'Tis God's voice calls : how could I stay ? 
Farewell!" . 



That night in the palace by the great cathedral, 
Monsignor, the Priest, is plotting with one of his 
servants. His brother's little daughter stands in his 
way, and already he has made plans to sweep her 
from his path. 

"'Tis but little dark-eyed, pretty singing Pippa, 
a silk-winding girl," says the servant; "I have kept 
her out of harm's way up to the present time, for I 
always intended to make your life a plague to you 
through her. 'Tis as well settled once and forever. 
I can easily dispose of the little thing." 

While the Priest lends an attentive ear to these 
wicked suo:orestions, there cornea from the street below 
the sound of a clear voice : — 

" Overhead the tree-tops meet — 
Flowers and grass spring 'neath one's feet — 
There was nouo^ht above me and nouo^ht below, 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 197 

My childhood had not learned to know ! 

For, what are the voices of birds 

— Ay, and of beasts, — but words — our words, 

Only so much more sweet ? 

The knowledge of that with my life begun ! 

But I had so near made out the sun, 

And counted your stars, the Seven and one. 

Like the fingers of my hand : 

Nay, I could all but understand 

Wherefore through heaven the white moon ranges ; 

And just when out of her soft fifty changes 

No unf[imiliar face might overlook me — 

Suddenly God took me 1 " 

And Pippa passes by. 

The Priest springs up and calls : — 

"My people — one and all — all — within there! 
Gaof this villain — tie him hard and foot ! He dares 
— I know not half he dares — but remove him — 
quick ! quick, I say ! " 

God has spoken also to Monsignor. 



As Pippa sat that night in her poor little room, 
at the close of her precious day, her thoughts of the 
morning returned ; and, unconscious of how God had 
led her through all the hours, she wondered how near 
she would ever approach those four happy people 
of Asolo. 



PICTURES FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

"Now, one thing I should really like to know : 
How near I ever might approach all these 
I only fancied being, this long day — 
— Approach, I mean, so as to touch them — so 
As to . . in some way . . move them — if you 

please, 
Do good or evil to them some slight way. 
For instance, if I wind 
Silk to-morrow, my silk may bind 
And broider Ottima's cloak's hem — 
Ah me ! and my important part with them, 
This morning's hymn half promised when I rose ! 
True in some sense or other, I suppose. 
Though I passed by them all, and felt no sign. 

"God bless me ! I can pray no more to-night. 
No doubt, some way or other, hymns say right. 
All service is the same tvith God — 
With God, whose pujtpets, best and tvorst, 
Are we: there is no last nor first — " 



These are only a few of my mind-pictures ; and I 
fear that, after all, I liave given you but a faint idea 
of their real beauty. If, however, you have experi- 
enced half the pleasure in looking at them, that I 
have felt in showing them to you, I shall be satisfied, 
and will promise to give you another peep some day 
into my mental gallery. 



HISTORY. 

(jrd Grade^ 




Stories of the Red Children. 

By Dorothy Brooks. Large type. Illus. 

Price, Boards, 30 cents; Cloth, 40 cents. 

It is both natural and fitting that the boys and girls of 
America should be interested and familiar with the legends 
that have woven so much of poetry and romance about the 
life of the Red men. And when these fanciful tales are 
presented as a part of the life-history of the little Red chil- 
dren they touch the kindred love of the marvelous in the 
civilized children of to-day with a peculiar closeness. All 
barriers of race and centuries of time fade away and the red 
and white children clasp hands In joy and delight in their 
mutual love of Nature's wonder-tales. The author's well- 
known charm in story telling has never shown better than 
in this little book. The style is smooth, flowing and beauti- 
ful. Wind, stars, rain, snow, rainbows and the whole phe- 
nomena of nature are woven into charming stories which 
will feed the imagination without injuring the children. 
The book is illustrated by twenty-three striking pictures 
vivid with Indian life and activities. 



HISTORY. 



(^2nd Grade^ 

Stories of the 

United States. 

By Anna Chase Davis. 

Large type edition. lUus. 

Price, Boards, 30 cents; 

Cloth, 40 cents. 
The supply of supplemen- 
tary reading for a grade or 
two in advance of this has 
been abundant. But Miss 
Davis is one of the few who 
have succeeded in writing to 
the children interesting matter. 

Chas. W. Deane, Supt. Schools, Bridgeport, Ct. 




NA CHAS6 DAVIS 



When a practical teacher undertakes to prepare history 
stories for the youngest children it is pretty safe to conclude 
that she will make them usable from the standpoint of other 
teachers. The author has begun at the Indian period, and the 
second year children who, already familiar with Hiawatha, will 
be ready and anxious to know more of Indian hfe in the early 
days. Then follows the story of the Norsemen, making ready 
for the coming of Columbus and the later discoverers. Inter- 
esting events connected with colonial times follow each other 
till the war cf 1812. The closing chapter is the story of 
Lincoln, If any unfortunate children are compelled to leave 
school after the two or three first years, they will have acquired 
enough knowledge of their own history to enable them to 
take it up intelligently in after life. Large, clear type, simple 
sentences, sho.t paragraphs and abundant full-page illustra- 
tior s, with numberless smaller ones of Indian life will ensure 
it a welcome among all Primary teachers. 

— Primary Education, 



S^Ait; 22 UJ6 



